


tríptico: learning in 3's and not 8's

by creampuffs



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2017-11-28 02:32:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creampuffs/pseuds/creampuffs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The game is over, and they've won, as long as winning is classified by "still alive" and "pretending to be humans." Life after Sburb. Or in which Vriska is unsurprisingly alone and unimaginably bored and empty before she's forced to learn the rule of threes. [COMPLETE]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ==> Set down the tone like a motherfuckin sick beat.

#####  **== >Be an omniscient narrator. Or a badass third-person point of view.**

  
Vriska flicks a piece of dirt on her jacket and reclines on her seat, the tattered sofa beneath her squeaking as old springs crunch and coil. The television is on and it is blaring crap from the latest episode of Real Life. Vriska cant' even be damned to laugh at all the wrong moments as she ought to, as she's too focused on the dirty piece of glass that used to be a window once. 

It used to be a window before she punched right through it anyways. She whistles, a low and meaningless tune as she crosses her feet, one over the other, and glares at the window some more, as if the sheer power of her one-eyed stare could pick the shards up from the ground and right them into place. Needless to say, it, like many other things Vriska is discovering about her habits, is completely ineffective.

The apartment is empty. John left a week ago, having helped her bring up the tattered furniture from the nearest human junk store ("Salvation Army, Vriska, Salvation Army! It's not a junk store!"--) and her first few bags of rations ("See, we call these _groceries_ and _adult responsibilities_ , Vriska can you spell tha--oh ow!--") but now that he's gone, it's like he was never here at all. 

She flings the remote control with a surprising amount of accuracy and grins for a second as it slams into the front of the television, all sounds and static of the Real Life fizzing out and disappearing in one, two, no three shaky gray lines. It is dead quiet now, save for the low droning of pipes and the occasional note of shitty pop music that floats in courtesy of the douchebag next door.

Her fist is still wet with tiny streams of blood from her cut knuckles but she scowls at them instead of tending to it, blue blood tying around her closed hand like pieces of string. It's not dripping on the ground yet, so there, that's fine, and she is too used to her hive being a goddamn mess to start changing old habits now.

The mere reminder of Alternia sends her rushing down another trail of thought. Shit. Vriska misses her recuperacoon. She misses warm sopor. She misses eating actual fucking sustenance fit for trolls and she misses not being constantly surrounded by humans. Not that any of them seemed to mind her. Which was unexpected, actually, since the trolls all figured their stay on Earth would be fucked completely considering the fact that they were now the minority, _they_ the _aliens_ but the first asshole human who wasn't part of John's dumbass, teen-wonder brigade just walked right past her, not sparing her a second glance. 

Which beyond royally pissing her off (because nobody ignores Vriska Serket), was actually fucking miraculous. A downright miracle, as the resident juggalo _dumbass_ might even say (actually, did say). They tried this some more in a variety of ways, with a variety of different trolls and humans of different ages. Speaking of which, why was it that humans came packaged like fucking candies with different colors and shades? Their differences were fucking innumerable, ignoring, of course, their similarity in looking like freaky babies with pathetically soft features. Anyways, the lot of them concluded that the humans perceived the trolls as humans as well, which was met with a mix of both relief and revulsion. For shit starters, Vriska was not used to the cards not being stacked against her. Not only did it make things less fun but it also made things harder to predict. And there was no fucking way in hell she could have seen that the others would accept the fate that was dealt them and continue (for the most part) to live on in freaky, domesticated bliss playing make-believe with other humans and their own original cast of dinky idiots.

Of course Equius and Nepeta stuck together. He went onto do like, fucking, body-building or something and Nepeta babysat animals like she didn't once tear them apart with her own goddamn teeth. Sollux, Aradia, Feferi and Eridan moved in together in what was probably the most fucking _dysfunctional_ living scenario ever (like, why would you watch the Real Life if you could just watch these morons in real-time) but nobody killed each other yet (or again, ha!) so obviously some kind of magical deity was at work. Either that or they were all in pails with each other, which was a train of thought that needed to crash into a tunnel and burst into a giant fiery explosion.

The Harley chick went onto do some crazy science-y shit and started building jetpacks or ray-guns or some other techy crap. No one has a goddamn idea where she lives except maybe the humans, but she has a tendency of dropping in whenever she wants to see whoever she wants. 

Karkat, John, Dave and Terezi lived a couple blocks away in what was probably the grossest most pathetic almost-bachelor pad of all time. Between Terezi licking everything and everyone, Dave's annoyingly loud (and a little bit cool, like, the tiniest fucking amount) turntables, Karkat's never-ending, self-loathing string of expletives, and John's newly acquired and ironic love for constantly _baking_ , Vriska didn't have to live in their neighborhood to know that everyone probably hated them. Or feared them. Or just straight out avoided them. 

Then like, to no one's fucking surprise, Gamzee and Tavros went on some...stupid spiritual journey or what the fuck ever. Vriska mostly imagined it involved sleeping in questionable places, eating gross things, and doing their fucking horrendous and embarrassing slam poetry in public. She figured it was probably their best option since finding jobs that weren't explicitly "being a drugged out juggalo on the constant brink of psychotic breakdown" and "being a pathetic loser with a stuttering problem and indecisive tendencies" were probably not commonplace human grist-building careers. 

And then Fussyfangs and the Lalonde girl. Everyone knew they were totally flushed for each other so no one bothered clapping when they went and hooked up in some snazzy house filled with dumb wizards and knitting and cats. Ignoring all the pet dander and ugly posters, those two were probably the most secure and well-adjusted out of all of them. And using the words "well-adjusted" for the crazy Lalonde chick was not exactly easy since last she heard, Rose battled a serious case of grimdark before and probably had some weird lusus--or mother, whatever-- complex. And Fussyfangs was hardly exempt from her own problems, because becoming a rainbow drinker was not like deciding you wanna only eat a specific kind of grub for the rest of your life. She scrunched her face up at that thought, not really wanting to know exactly how Kanaya went about and got her daily dose of nutrition. Bluh, no, enough of that.

Vriska exhaled, a thin stream of air escaping through the slit of her mouth as she finally rose from the sofa, heading towards the kitchen to shove her hand under water. Vriska Serket was not one to sulk. Sulking was for losers and weaklings who didn't know how to make their own goddamn situation any better. But facts were facts, and the fact was, this _sucked._

She doesn't bother making a face when the water runs over the cuts, because sting as it might, it's not anything worth thinking about. Wallowing in self-pity was a very consuming exercise anyways. 

Her husktop--er, human labtop, _whatever_ , same thing--pings as a message pops up on the window. She doesn't have to cross the kitchen table to know it's John because she could see his stupid blue font color blinking at her from here and it takes her a while before she remembers that he's probably making sure she didn't forget that they were doing Dave's "awesome surprise birthday party!!" later today. She's pretty sure that's one hell of an uncool birthday title. And that surprise birthday parties were kinda lame on principle too, but maybe that was the point, you know, for irony and all. But remembering that this is John she's dealing with, she discards that thought, because really? John Egbert capable of intentional irony? Pffft. She wraps her hand messily in a small roll of band-aids from behind the kitchen counter (because screw human social order, she'll put things where she goddamn wants) and plops herself down in front of the screen.

> EB: hey vriska!
> 
> EB: vriska!!!!
> 
> EB: vriska!!!!!!
> 
> EB: vriiiiiiiiska!!!!!!!!
> 
> AG: 8LUH, 8before you go on to tell me things I already know
> 
> AG: I didn't forget it was Strider's surprise 8irthday party today ok????????
> 
> AG: Like my gr8 memory would forget that, as lame as a surprise birthday party is
> 
> EB: hey it is not lame! 
> 
> EB: it's ironic! 
> 
> EB: ...right?
> 
> AG: Jooooooooohn
> 
> AG: What did I tell you a8out 8eing more assertive with your st8ments?
> 
> EB: hahaha yeah
> 
> EB: well anyways we're gonna meet at rose and kanaya's place at ummm
> 
> EB: 6:00 i think! so don't be late ok?
> 
> AG: Getting 8ossy huh Egbert! Well just for that, I'm coming extra l8!!!!!!!! 
> 
> EB: oh come on vriska
> 
> EB: there will be cake! so much cake! and cookies too!
> 
> EB: with really awesome frosting!!!!!!!!
> 
> EB: i even made a batch with like
> 
> EB: frosted spiders and stuff!
> 
> EB: so you absolutely have to come.
> 
> EB: because who else is gonna eat them first?
> 
> AG: ...
> 
> AG: .....
> 
> AG: ........
> 
> AG: I h8 it when you pull a fast one on me like this.
> 
> AG: And 8y h8 I mean love!
> 
> AG: I mean obviously you are learning from the 8est so improvement is a must.
> 
> AG: Okay, okay, fine I'll 8e there at 6
> 
> EB: hehehehe
> 
> EB: thanks vriska! 
> 
> EB: you wont regret it! 
> 
> EB: it'll be awesome!! 
> 
> EB: there'll be music and food and con air!!!!!!!!
> 
> EB: for irony! 

  
John keeps on babbling on about the sheer awesomeness of the party he's got planned but at this point, Vriska's pretty much done with the conversation. She leaves the computer to head to the bathroom. There's likely to be a layer of day old pizza and shitty takeout smell on her clothes and hair and the last thing she wants is Fussyfangs giving the old song and dance about not eating right (which is like, hilarious considering the lack of diversity in her own food pyramid). She don't want to admit it, but there is the tiniest bit of excitement to get out of this boring as hell apartment. Even if it means being surrounded by a bunch of losers, they're still the losers she knows best.

 

 

#####  **-=== > Be Vriska Serket.**

Okay, take it back. 

This party _blows._

John wasn't lying about the music and food and Con-Air. Which is a really awkward combination of things because you think the singer is babbling about teenage dreams and sleep deprivation, or something, you can't tell, it's hard to decide when there are explosions from the television and shots of Nic Cage being a general badass. It is a surprisingly full party, everyone having had taken the effort to show up--or more likely, was successfully coerced/tricked by John and Rose to attend. Shit, even Tavros and Gamzee are here, taking a break from their totally suspicious, spiritual vagabonding. After the entrance of the birthday boy (who was unsurprised or at least faked it damn well), there was cake and a weird collection of food that everyone brought as a part of a human thing called poopluck? Pockluck? Whatever, close enough.

Most of the other trolls adapted well enough to human food. Even you'd be lying if you said you hadn't acquired a taste for General Tso's chicken and pepperoni pizza. And to no one's surprise, Fussyfangs is something of a fucking chef in the kitchen and of course out-shows everyone up by like, preparing some kind of fancy looking, vaguely squishy, red, pasta-ish thing. You think it's called pasta, anyways. You haven't tried it yet just to spite her but if everyone's faces and repeated servings are any indication, it's pretty goddamn good. 

Tavros inches toward you on the ground as you sit sprawled, half watching Con-Air (for what might be the fourth time in a row) and half listening to the conversations around you. You scowl at him just to scowl, no real malice on your face, and he offers you a smile, shaky at best.

"Uh, hi Vriska," 

Oh god, he is as awkward as ever. Still, you're the smallest bit glad that some things don't change and you stick a toothpick in your mouth and pick at your incisor, flicking off a piece of frosting. "Taaaaaaaavros. Back so soon from your spiritual journey or whatever?" Your single eye flicks to his face for a while, the back of Eridan's dumb purple scarf edging into your periphery as he starts another argument with Sollux. You don't really hear the details but it's still funny to see them going at it and you are distracted enough that you almost miss his response entirely. 

"Yeah, well, we're just taking a break for a while, I think. John told me it was Dave's birthday, and uhh, I think they're like troll wriggling days, which weren't really celebrated back home, but, uh, you know, well, it sounded important so..." he drifts off again, one hand scratching behind the giant base of his horn before his smile returns, a little more confidently this time. "Anyways, how have you been?" In retrospect, it's really fucking weird that the two of you are having this conversation like normal friends, because history between you includes crippling, murdering, backstabbing, and mind-control, but that fun list of things also extends to you and most of the others in the group so maybe it's not so weird after all.

You'd like to think everyone mostly buried the hatchet on that matter anyways.

He's still waiting for your answer and for a while, you consider whipping up a tall tale of adventures you haven't really had, just to prove that you're having a better time than him. Somehow though, you find the energy and effort for that is sorely lacking. You opt for the truth, which surprises you a bit, but you'll blame it on the pastry induced coma later. "Bluh, it's boring. Nothing to fight! Nothing to pillage. Nothing to _do._ " Yeah your "job" at the videostore keeps you occupied sometimes since you get to pick on customers, but even that loses its charm after the losers start ignoring your teasing. He nods sympathetically, as if he totally gets you (which he obviously doesn't because _he's_ the one who's actually doing some adventuring, ugh!) and he takes a while before coming up with something to say.

"You know, I can...ask Gamzee if you'd like to come with us sometime. We, uh, don't really have a goal most of the time and a lot of it is discovering things along the way but it's been really fun so far! A lot more fun than a lot of the other things I've done actually..."

Which isn't saying much since it's hard to have fun when your confidence level is constantly stuck somewhere below zero but you shut your flap because you figure while some things have stayed the same (like his awkwardness), some things have changed (like his slowly growing confidence). Still, you don't even think about your response to that offer because it's so obvious that you are not about to take anyone's help--least of all, Tavros's--because as bored as you are, you are holding onto this goddamn ship of pride until its lodged deep dead into the sea.

"Nah," and you refrain from adding in the poison you know you could, "I'll figure something out. Besides, who would wanna hang out with you two losers!" You think you see his face cringe a little out of habit before he realizes you said it with a half smile and not a smirk, and it's awkward again as the both of you try to get used to communicating with sincerity and an actual attempt at friendship. 

Bluh, you are officially done with this conversation. It is by far, like, ten times easier just to focus on Nic Cage and laugh at everyone else's dumb antics than it is to have to watch yourself from your own personal thinkpan-theater. 

"Well, okay, Vriska. But...the offer still stands if you change your mind later." He stands up, careful with his legs (you think he still hasn't really gotten used to getting them back) and he waves at you a bit. "I think I'm gonna get another serving of Kanaya's lasagna. You should try some! It's really quite good." He gestures to the table and points out said lasagna before he takes his leave. and you hear a honk from the other side of the room as Gamzee follows after him for his own refill of pasta. 

Your stomach grumbles, apparently dissatisfied with tonight's consumption of strictly sugary things. You knock back the last of your soda and head towards the table of food after you see Tavros and Gamzee ambling somewhere else in the room to eat, and the song changes to something about rocketships. You are gazing suspiciously at the many plates of food before you, trying to figure out what the hell the jiggling plate of yellow cubes that Nepeta brought is, before you finally cave in and cut yourself a piece of lasagna. 

"I hope you'll like it, it seems the others find it acceptable." 

You almost drop your paper plate in surprise when you hear her, but instinct kicks in and you stab the pasta with a fork in your plate before turning around to face Kanaya. She is dressed similar to how you remember, though her shirt is of a different fabric and her sign insignia is smaller, and towards the left of her breast. You half shrug before tearing into the pasta with your fork. "Yeah, well, I'm just hungry and this was the first thing I saw." Which is like almost impossible and a total lie since it's actually at the middle of the table but ugh, whatever. She smiles at that, small, but knowing, and you are momentarily indignant that she can still read you that well. She had always been perceptive to your moods, and regardless of all that's different now, it seemed like that at least wasn't about to change anytime soon. 

You bite into the food. Holy shit, what the hell are you eating and why is it so good? You mask your reaction though, because like hell you are about to let Fussyfangs hear what she already knows and you say, still chewing, "Well, it's _okay_ I guess. At least you didn't burn it or something." The jab doesn't even ruffle her feathers and she breaks her gaze only to retrieve a cup by your side full of water. "That's good, I'm glad to hear it's edible." You think there might be a trace of teasing in there but before you can respond, Rose slides in by your other side, leaving you sufficiently trapped between your ex-moiral and her now girlfriend, or flushcrush, or ugh, maybe even straight out matespirit. 

"You know, for someone who's naturally predisposed to temper tantrums and shouting, you've been awfully quiet since this party started. Don't tell me you're suddenly interested in developing a facet of shyness or restraint? Because I have to say, it seems a rather ill fit," Rose's catlike smile doesn't go unnoticed, and she pops a small tart into her mouth as she watches you carefully. "Ugh, whatever Lalonde. Don't even try your weird psychobabble on me. And don't you have a dumb trashy book with old, lame, smelly wizards to finish?" She tuts at that, shaking her head just the slightest, bob bouncing. "Smelly? Really, Vriska? My, we are running a little short on the creative insults now aren't we?" 

You bristle at that, readying your arsenal of _real_ comebacks before Kanaya interrupts with a thoughtful voice, "You know, Vriska, they're not actually bad. I mean sometimes the writing can appear to be a little dense, but that's mostly Rose's propensity for language at work, and that aside, the romance is written quite well, not too far in fact, from the thrilling prose of the latest edition of Twi--"

"--ugh, wait, no Fussyfangs shut it, I definitely do not want to hear about _your_ trashy rainbow-drinker novels." And for once, Rose backs you up, a slight crinkle in her eyes as she replies, "To my displeasure, I'm going to have to agree with Vriska on this. Twilight is an unfortunate piece of fiction, Kanaya, and if your happiness wasn't important to me, I'd be trying much harder to rid the house of it entirely." You wince at that happiness bit because ew, flush feelings are all up in your face right now, and what you do not want to see is the two of them exchanging mouth fluids over books. Thankfully, they do no such thing. Kanaya sulks, or comes as close to sulking as you think she's capable of, while Rose shifts her attention back to you.

"Literary tastes aside, how have you been Vriska?" You wonder if she's asking just to humor you but Rose has never been the type to humor anyone but herself and the look of curiosity in her face is too convincing to be a lie. "Fine. What do you care, Lalonde?" You take another bite of lasagna again, momentarily distracted by its rich taste only to be interrupted. "Is it so strange to wonder how you are faring now that you're here on Earth? And the fact that you're living alone, too, when everyone else has chosen to live with others..." She trails off and her tone isn't accusatory, just careful and probing, but you still raise your defenses anyways because it's better to be safe than sorry. She chews on a cupcake carefully, delicately, you think, and you stare for a moment at her blunt human teeth. You are careful not to pause for too long. "Just means I don't have to worry about anyone but myself. I'm not like Fussyfangs here who needs to stick her nose in everyone's business all the time," Kanaya lifts an eyebrow at that, hoping to respond but Rose, as always, is too quick to let her start. "Still, it must get...oh I don't know, boring, I suppose. Maybe even lonely." 

You don't know what game she's playing at but it seems like Kanaya does because her eyes widen just the slightest, jade irises darting between Rose and yourself. Figures these two would be scheming something. 

You finish the rest of your lasagna in quick bites, stuffing the remaining pieces in your mouth and shoving it into the trash bag in front of you. Back turned to the two of them, you miss their whispering to each other, one voiced hushed and unsure, the other calm and confident. When you return, you wipe your hands on your pants, an act that makes Kanaya frown at the small bit of tomato sauce that claims a new home on the front of your pockets, and decide then and there to bite back at the bait that's dangling in front of you. "Whatever, what do you care! Feeling lonely is for looosers," ignoring for a moment that this is exactly how you feel at times, you press on, "and besides, not like I'm about to move in with any of these idiots anyways." You jerk your thumb over behind you, pointing vaguely at John, Karkat, and Dave who are playing the worlds most intense game of Monopoly (you think you hear Karkat screaming, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN GO TO JAIL. YOU GO TO JAIL, FUCKASS!") "Or god jegus forbid, _those_ guys," you point your finger over at Eridan and Sollux, who are bent over an old, battered N64 playing what appears to be, a racing game with people wearing dumb red hats. "And you couldn't even pay me to live with Sweaty McSweatPants and his accomplice Roleplaying CatGirl." Rose makes a face at the weak nickname. 

Fine, so you admit that your name-calling for Nepeta wasn't so great but hey, you are on a roll here, okay? Okay.

"The misadventures of the clown juggalo and his big horned friend is also not something I'm about to touch with a ten foot pole either, so don't even bother, Lalonde." Nevermind that the two of them were probably having ridiculous amounts of fun and pillaging and--bluhh, whatever. Anyways. Rose still looks determined, for whatever dumb reason, and Kanaya has ceased talking at all, now looking worriedly at Karkat (or maybe more at her carpet) as he flips the entire gameboard over, spilling fake money and plastic toys up into the air.

"Well, then all things considered, that still leaves you one option." You almost miss the suggestive arch of her brows at that, and you are glad that Kanaya isn't looking at the two of you anymore because you swear that is as fucking flushed of an advance as it gets. Geez, is Lalonde really tugging your chain here? You don't get to come up with anything witty to that because Kanaya turns back to you, worry easing off her face as John and Dave's laughter breaks out to Karkat's great annoyance. You try not to watch Terezi giving the pink paper money an experimental lick. "Not to say we are forcing your hand, Vriska", she says, "You are simply welcome to visit anytime you'd like." You are pretty sure Kanaya is doing what she does best, which is more or less giving you an odd mixture of fussing and being really pale for you, and you pretend like you're not even considering the offer. A cat comes up and brushes itself against your pant leg, as if standing in for the totally plump cherry on this unexpected cake of conciliatory feelings jam (or what you _think_ is a conciliatory feelings jam) and you stare at it before giving it a scratch behind the ears. It decides this is a very acceptable turn of events and purrs, a deep rumbling sound coming from its small, orange chest. 

"It's just something to think about." Rose pats you on the shoulder in a kind of patronizing way but she retracts it so fast you cant gauge it completely. Still, you stick with your good old response of glaring. Though you think this is dulled in effect by the purring cat that you are crouching to pet more comfortably, she does you both a favor by sliding over to the other side of the room, leaning on the wall to converse with Dave who is trying way too hard to be a casual cool kid at his own goddamn birthday party. 

Kanaya cuts you another piece of lasagna and puts it on a new plate for you before nodding slowly, as if carefully debating whether or not to say what she ends up saying anyways. "Please don't rise too quickly at Rose's barbs, she is just teasing. Consider it something...akin to affection, perhaps, and not black in nature," She offers you the plate with a small handful of carefully folded napkins and you take them both, fully knowing there's no way in hell you're gonna be using the napkins anyways. "But I do know she means it when she offered you a place to stay. And..." she pauses here, looking down at the cat who is still sitting before you, "...it seems that Gandalf has taken a liking to you." You very obviously make a gross face at the name because Gandalf, seriously? What the hell kind of name was that? 

"I would also like to think that Rose and I are better companions than the delivery boy and pizzaman who frequent your hive so often," there it is again, the faint note of amusement, but it passes quietly as she continues, "...so please, consider it." 

You don't know why everyone's up and gotten such an interest in your life all of a sudden but between the purring cat and the plate of very tasty lasagna in front of you, it's suddenly kind of difficult to be disagreeable. "Bluh, yeah, I'll think about it maybe." She seems to catch onto the fact that that's the best she's going to get out of you and she leans down as well to pet Gandalf, who leans into her familiar touch, and she leaves you alone at last. 

The party afterwards gets a little more fun. Jade and Karkat are now playing the racing game in place of Sollux and Eridan and there are enough shouted FUCKASS's between them to drown out anything else in their proximity. Dave's finally convinced John that his music taste absolutely blows and has since taken over the music with his sick turntables which has brought everyone a sweep of relief that no one knew they needed. Gamzee and Feferi are talking, or you think, Feferi is trying to talk to Gamzee who seems insistent in trying to converse with strictly honks. Some people start trickling out when it gets to be around ten, and you leave when John tries to play Con-Air for the ninth time because ugh, uncool. It could have been a perfect eight! Everyone slaps each others backs kind of awkwardly and you leave before any dumb nut tries to get too chummy with you, shouting a sarcastic happy wriggling day to Dave who gives you the finger to your delight.

When you return to your apartment, it is just as you left it, and you have enough sense of mind to tape up the window to keep any cold drafts from blowing in along with unwanted pests. You throw yourself into your pile, because human beds are lame and uncomfortable, and you fall asleep remembering the odd sound of Gandalf purring and the echoing words of an unexpected proposal offered at your feet.


	2. ==> Get all biznasty with multiple perspectives.

#####  **== > Be Fussyfangs.**

No, wait, that's not right. You have never once approved that nickname, simply tolerated it for the sake of giving Vriska something to be pleased about. You lay down the law this time though.

#####    
**== > Be the rainbow-drinker.**

You make a face at this.

#####    
**== > Be Kanaya Maryam. **

Thank you. 

It is somewhere close to midnight and you and Rose have finally retired to bed after cleaning up after the party. You are secretly glad that she has vehemently denied all attempts at another large gathering for her own birthday tomorrow, even at the expense of seeing John's and Jade's deflated faces. She insisted that a quieter evening spent at her own pace would be satisfactory, and if they (or any of their other friends) would want to visit, that they were welcome to come. You know it took skilled practice and the slightest amount of manipulation to have John finally relent, or maybe just the perfect dose of distraction and a topic change. And the promise of an eventual slumber party (a human celebratory event you still don't quite understand) was enough to placate Jade. It's been settled, decided, cemented that tomorrow, on Rose's wriggling--err, birthday--she would be mostly at home. Which is something you don't mind at all. Given the sheer amount of energy it took to have so many people in one place at once, you think maybe she is as drained as you are.

Speaking of which. 

She moves just the slightest beside you to indicate that she, like you, has yet to succumb to sleep. You watch the back of her neck move slightly, the soft wisps of hair curling around the curve of her ears, and you find you are still learning to tune into all the fine motor movements of Rose Lalonde. When she rolls over on her side to face you, you cant help it, you reach out and tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. Her bangs fall slightly to the side with the absence of her headband. 

"Yes, Rose?" You know the giant locomotive of her brain is churning over something carefully, considering something deeply, in what you imagine to be a myriad of ways. She looks at you contemplatively and reaches her hand out to hold yours. She lifts it to her mouth and kisses it, dry but soft, and you flush just the slightest, still pleasantly surprised by such affection.

"When you consider that no one burned down anything in the house or seriously threatened each other with bodily harm, I would like to think that today's party was a success, wouldn't you?" You rest the hand that was just kissed atop her waist and nod in return. "It certainly looks that way," you pause for a moment, small smile blossoming on your face, "though there is a possibility that Karkat might have entertained the notion at some point." She chuckles quietly at that, perhaps too exhausted to stop herself from laughing. "Yes, well, to be fair, I don't think I've ever met such a sore loser before. Even Dave is more graceful about his losses, and frankly, Karkat's awful at Monopoly in ways I never thought possible." 

You both share a moment of silence, broken only by the rustling of bedsheets as Gandalf and Chinesis roll around at the foot of the bed before finally settling down. You think about Vriska by force of habit and remember her face from earlier, considering the offer, and then imagine what she must look like right now, in bed and alone in an incredibly questionable apartment complex. There are mysterious stains on the walls and empty, greasy boxes of food and a loud, offensive infomercial playing and- alright, perhaps you are rambling and overreacting just a tiny bit. Still, it takes much effort to actually internalize all your worrying and it must show on your face because Rose frowns a bit. 

"I know you know her better than I do, but I'm willing to bet she'll come around," she inches a little bit closer, the soft cotton of her shirt brushing against your arm. "After all, she doesn't seem the type to pass up a challenge." For all the limited interaction between Rose and Vriska, you are starting to realize that perhaps she knows more about your ex-moiral than she lets on. Or maybe you are becoming more loose-lipped. None of these are exactly unpleasant thoughts. You run a hand through her hair and she closes her eyes, leaning into the touch, and you are thoughtful again for a moment longer. "Yes, maybe. I certainly hope so."

You had been completely surprised by Rose's open acceptance to your awkward, if not, unfortunately worded proposal of inviting Vriska into your home. Ignoring for the moment, that the two of you were now obviously deep into the red quadrant, or as Rose liked to call "significant others" (which you still think is just a more elaborate way of saying matesprit, but you digress), there was still the slight concern that your feelings for Vriska once waxed towards the more romantic. You had tried hard to convince yourself it was pale, but troll romance as you knew it was complicated, fickle, and frustrating, and it was too late to stop yourself from a crash-course landing. The brief period of facilitating an equally uncomfortable relationship between Vriska and Eridan never really helped either. You are secretly glad she seemed as turned off tonight by the thought of moving in with him and his flatmates as you were.

Still, none of this changed Rose's mind when you spoke about it, and you aren't quite sure if it's human custom to be so open to the possibility of quadrant infidelity or if she was just the exception to the case. It certainly wouldn't be the first time she demonstrated subversiveness, after all. Though in the end, you simply chalked it up to her insatiable curiosity and investment in interpersonal relationships and, ah, of course, the opportunity to take a crack at unraveling the personality of Vriska Serket herself. You think it has mostly to do with the latter. And to be frank, you would ask for no better accomplice than Rose Lalonde to coax Vriska out of her self-inflected misery, because while you remain the master of worrying (or fussying, as you often object to), there is a bite in Rose's bark that you know Vriska appeals to, a pinch of aggression that you yourself were never interested in using. You look back down, only mildly surprised to see that Rose has fallen asleep without meaning to, and you immediately dim your glow to a low flicker as you learned from your ancestor once. You brush a soft kiss on her forehead and settle deep into the pillows.

You fall asleep eventually, but it is to thoughts of tangled hair, heated glares, and magic eight balls bobbing on thick blankets of foam.

  


###### 

#####    
**== > Be that badass omniscient perspective again. Booyah. **

When Vriska wakes, it is to blaring amounts of afternoon sunlight and a useless alarm clock screaming two hours too late. She flings it across the room and gropes the ground beside her for her glasses and communication device, or uh, cellular phone. Yes, right, that's what they're called. She finds both, almost smashing the phone on her face and the glasses to her ear before catching her error. There is a whining sound and a crinkling of sheets as she flops back down and a good stretch of time passes before she bothers fixing herself. She calls her boss, fingers fumbling around for a bit before she gets through, and she feigns the best sick voice she can, slipping into a weak, muffled coughing. If there was one thing Vriska was always ace at, it was white lies and dramatics, so she waxes the worlds most brilliant fucking sob story about--shit, what did Dave call it--oh yeah, catching a mono or something. He buys it and gives her the day off, sounding oddly grossed out (though to be fair, she'd be grossed out too if she had to wake up every morning with a face like that) while kindly letting her know she's not to be paid for today. Haha, well, fuck him too! She chucks the phone over her shoulder and digs under the pile of blankets and pillows again. 

As shit luck would have it, sleep does not return, and she figures it has something to do with all the fucking _sun_ coming in and the mild grumbling in her stomach. 

Okay, fine, lunch time. And then maybe a reunion with her very awesome pile. She makes her way to the kitchen and opens her fridge, surveying her options. A half opened can of mayonnaise, some pudding cups, a leftover box of lo-mein, and a stick of butter. Damn, Serket sure knows how to collect the goods. Alright, fine, lo-mein it is. She doesn't bother with the microwave, instead, opts for a simple fork and completely demolishes the rest of the carton. She's tempted to leave it on the kitchen table to clean up some other time but remembers John babbling about house maintenance and bugs and rats or whatever, and shoves it unceremoniously in the trash instead. 

She sits on her sofa and glares at the broken window from last night, as if it were to blame for letting in all the light _and_ for being broken. 

Her phone rattles, shaking energetically from its abandoned spot on the ground and she picks at her eyepatch before strapping it on proper. It's Terezi. A series of text messages ping, one after the other, and Vriska scrunches her face when teal colored fonts start flooding her screen. How the hell did she figure out how to change font color on a stupid _phone?_ Ugh, wonders will never cease.

#####  H3Y VR1SKA  
1 H4VE SPL3NDID N3WS  
ON3 TH4T YOU W1LL F1ND V3RY 4GR334BL3 1'M SUR3  
>:]   
  
  
**== > Be Vriska Serket.**  


You flip your phone open and realize that it also has an option for changing font colors. You probably didn't notice because you haven't used this dumb thing enough for texting. And wow, does Pyrope actually need to send all these stupid messages separately instead of in small bursts? Someone give the girl a book of manners and a brochure on common sense, bluh. 

...nevermind the fact that you do the same exact thing.

Yes Terezi, what I reeeeeeeeally need is your stupid texts 8laring at me so early in the morning!!!!!!!!  
And since when were you ever capa8le of whipping up good news?  
Ugh, cut the dramatics and spill the 8eans already!  
Not that I actually care!! 

You imagine the stretch of silence on your end means that Terezi is licking her screen to read your words. The mental image is totally gross and incredibly accurate. Jegus, why were all your friends such freaks?

34RLY IN THE MORN1NG? VR1SK4, 1T 1S NOON  
SH4M3 ON YOU  
4NYW4YS MOV1NG ONTO MOR3 1MPORT4NT BUS1N3SS  
GU3SS WH4T C4M3 1N TH3 M41L TOD4Y

There's no actual time to guess. Terezi follows up that text in like, three seconds or something, making you confident that she's orchestrated this whole thing and practiced her timing just to play it up some more. You really hope she lays off the court dramas. That Judge Judy was fake as hell and the acting was so over the top and fake anyways. 

L3FT 4 D34D 2  
4ND NO 1 DONT M34N 4 1 M34N 4

You have to laugh at that with a good sharp bark, because there are fewer things in this world funnier than Terezi Pyrope having communication problems thanks to her stupid typing quirk. You almost want to be difficult just to be difficult but to be honest, you are just the teeeensy bit excited about the games arrival. You guys had totally obliterated Left 4 Dead and after Dave told you both that there was a sequel, you had scrambled to buy that shit online stat. The Scourge Sisters were actually real fucking ace at first-person-shooters but who could be surprised that Vriska Serket had a good hold on headshots? Of course, Terezi had to make a stupid comment about it probably being because she already had one eye closed all of the time, but whatever, _she_ wasn't the one licking the screen every ten seconds to even play the damn game. Plus, zombies are totally cool in your book. Especially when dead or dying (again.)

Okay, I guess that's actually pretty good news  
8ut I 8et Dave's not too excited a8out you licking his screen for hours on end!!!!!!!! 

Seriously though, Strider was probably not all that gleeful about saving up for an HD TV only to have his like, matesprit, moiral or what the fuck ever Terezi was in his quadrants, go lick it all over for three hours straight. His extreme displeasure makes the whole gaming experience ten times more fun for you though. You're pretty confident Terezi feels the same way. 

W3LL VR1SK4  
1F YOU 4LR34DY D3C1D3D TO SP3ND TOD4Y B31NG MOST UNPRODUCT1VE  
YOU M1GHT 4S W3LL JO1N M3 FOR 4 G4M1NG S3SS1ON

Vriska scowls momentarily. Who said she was being unproductive? She was being plenty fucking productive, thank you very much. In fact, she's just about to say so when Terezi follows up again.

B3S1DES  
TH3S3 ZOMB1ES 4R3N'T GO1NG TO OFF TH3MS3LV3S  
JUST1CE MUST B3 S3RV3D!

Goddammit, Terezi did know how to play her cards right. And to be honest, you guess you didn't have any real urgent plans for today. Not that you'd ever let her know as much. You wait just a bit before replying, hoping to give her the sense that you're still deciding. Mindgames have always been your favorite past-time after all.

Ehhhhhhhh  
Fine fine, I'll come!  
Lucky for you I cleared my 8usy schedule just now!  
Jegus knows you can't actually play the game 8y yourself  
You'd pro8a8ly mess up so much even the zombies would feel 8ad!  
I'll 8e over in an hour  
Don't wait up, loser!!!!!!!!

She pings you back instantly. 

>:]  
H3H3H3  
Y3S V3RY W3LL  
H3R3'S TO ANOTH3R C4MP4IGN

You never really knew what to expect of Terezi after the game ended. Your friendship with her consisted of literal backstabbing and intense flarping and you were preparing yourself for cold shoulders or platonic hate after the dust settled. You said sorry because you kinda meant it, and okay, yeah, maybe it came off a bit sarcastic, but Vriska Serket never says sorry to _anyone_ and after intense deliberation on her part (which felt like fucking sweeps, actually), she came around the bend. You wouldn't have wasted time saying sorry if you knew that anyone else in the group would be half as much fun to hang out with and her accepting the, urk-- _apology_ , probably meant she felt the same. Which was cool, you guess. Okay, so it was pretty awesome, you admit. The Scourge Sisters were back in business, just like they should be. You two have been hanging out occasionally since, finding a new go-to-activity in the awesome video games at the Strider-Egbert-Vantas-Pyrope freak circus house.

Anyways. You shut your phone off and pretend you are excited for other reasons, even when there's nothing to prove to anyone at the moment. You wash up, change into your usual outfit of a black tee, pants, and a jacket, and you are out the door with a root beer in hand.

#####    


###### 

  
  
**== > Be the creepy goth chick who likes to knit and write about wizards.**

Really now? Can't you be any more imaginative than that? It almost seems like you aren't even trying.

#####    
**== > Be Sassy McSassy Pants.**

Clever. But interesting, I don't see you giving Vriska such a hard time like this.

#####    
**== > Be Rose Lalonde. **

Curioser and curioser. 

You are sitting at your desk and it is a little past 2:30 in the afternoon. There is a half finished cup of Earl Grey to your left, a black cat curled beneath your chair, and a laptop in front of you with approximately 475 pages of delectable, thrilling, fantasy-fiction by yours truly. The house is mostly quiet, save for the dusty music that plays from down the hall, and you know it's Cole Porter on the gramophone that you bought at an antique store way back when. Kanaya took a liking to it immediately, though it's fair to say you aren't sure what interests her more, the dulcet tones of Porter himself or the gramophone and it's wily ways. 

You balance a pen carefully in your thin fingers, blinking down at the open pad of scribbled bullet points you've amassed to help you move your story along. It really is a rich tale if you could say so yourself, a tense, dark, dramatic romance tucked deep within a inscrutable blanket of inequality, war, tyranny and-

-my, you wouldn't want to dole out spoilers so soon, would you? You close the book. 2:30 is always time for a well deserved snack, and Rose Lalonde was a punctual, if not a very dedicated soldier of routine. You stretch your arms and rise from the seat, making long strides as Chinesis mewls and dances between your legs. When you approach the stairs to the kitchen, you tilt your head slightly to see into the other room at Kanaya, who is seated on her wooden stool leaning over a table accommodating large rolls of paper. To the right of her are smaller posterboards with carefully cut swatches of color and a variety of font sizes flanking both sides. You weren't the least bit surprised to discover that her talents for art stretched further than just fashion, and her sharp eye for color and composition gave her a fair advantage in the arena of graphic design. True, she did it the old fashioned way, with cut papers and raw material, but you realize she has always been a tactile learner by nature. She doesn't notice you, only stopping her work when Chinesis leaves you and gives no warning before pouncing on her lap. She seems startled, but only momentarily, and she sets her pencil down to give the soft cat a loving scratch behind the ears, to which she's rewarded with by a deep purring. Chinesis had always been more fond of Kanaya than she was of you, but you imagine it's because it was Kanaya who noticed her first when they had visited the shelter, a deep black Bombay curled up behind bars.

You watch your girlfriend, no, correction, significant other, being in all ways affectionate and tender with the plump cat before her and a crooked smile fixes itself on your face. Goodness gracious, sometimes it strikes you just how _domesticated_ you two have become after the game ended, what with living in a house with two cats and careers in literature and art. It couldn't really get any more homely, could it? Almost makes it hard to believe what the two of you, no, what everyone really went through. A case of the grimdark, supernatural powers and an inclination for blood-drinking, and of course, the destruction of worlds. Ah, yes, who could forget the destruction of worlds.

Hmm.

You head downstairs, greeted by Gandalf as he yawns and jumps off his perch on a footstool to follow you into the kitchen. Gandalf, like you, had a habit of intuitively knowing when it was snack time and after you prepare a slice of toast for yourself, you kneel down to give him a small serving of kibble. You fix yourself a pot of coffee and lean on the counter as the toast begins to darken (you've always liked it near-burnt, crispy and crumbly) and the drip coffee machine begins its crooning. You think of what your mother would say if she could see you now. Would she be amused? Surprised? No, maybe not. You don't think you've ever seen her without that uncanny look of _knowing_ in her eyes, though at times, you've confused it with her being tipsy. The two often came hand in hand, anyways. You spent a lot of your time with her playing a game of one-upmanship that you now think she was never really playing, and you cant help but notice how far away that part of your life is. Where had all the time gone? A question better fit for Dave, maybe, but you think he's probably just as lost (if not more) than you are. The toaster pings, darkened slices popping up, and you grab a plate along with a small glass of blueberry jam and a knife. The coffee machine chokes out its last few sputters and you grab a mug, fill it up, and bring your food to the kitchen table. 

As you delicately spread the jam atop the bread, you think again on your life, where it was, where it is, and the possibilities for where it might go and there's a word to describe your present feelings, and it is sitting on the tip of your tongue. Close, but not quite there yet, and you furrow your brows as you keep reaching for it. Content? No, no, that wasn't right. Regretful? Not quite that either. It was...perhaps closest to... _boredom._ Yes, boredom. You grimace as the word settles deep into your brain, font size 72 and bolded in Impact.

The more you reflect on it though, the more you see how obvious it is. Considering all the adventures, tribulations, escapades, and shenanigans you've seen in the past few years, could anyone blame you for feeling a bit restless? It's not as if you were bored with Kanaya, or even with your perfectly satisfactory (in fact, incredibly successful--) career, it's just that things seemed smaller in comparison to the scale you used to work on. My god, was this the quarter-life crisis? Was this that feeling athletic stars got when they realized their golden years are over? How unfair. You're barely in your mid-twenties, so as far as you're concerned, there is absolutely no good reason for this series of thought to exist. You take an aggressive bite of your toast, relishing the sharp crunch. You take a delicate sip of your coffee afterwards, as if to counter the action. 

Perhaps that explained your current situation.

When Kanaya had told you about her feelings and hopes for Vriska, you think maybe once upon a time you would be more careful before agreeing to such a turbulent affair. No, actually, probably not. You have always had a flair for adventure, after all, and all rules were meant to be broken. You smile into your next bite, and Gandalf plops down by your chair with a full stomach. But still, the proposal was an interesting one at that, and very alluring too, because you have always been drawn to challenges and difficulties and oh, should you say it, yes, _danger._ It's so cheesy you could roll your eyes enough to permanently dislocate them from their sockets but you control yourself, because as interesting a fashion statement it might be, you think Kanaya wouldn't find it as funny. You finish up your first slice and begin spreading jam on the second, taking another sip of your coffee when you finish. Vriska Serket: tenacious, mercurial, and vengeful. You pull up her file from your mental cabinet of personalities and you can see her in your minds eye, snarling (or maybe an attempt at a smile?) and tangled, like a particularly mean kitten with rabies. There is also an underlying smell of takeout, because you are diligent in taking notes with all your senses. It's a wonder the girl was still rail-thin when her diet was seemingly locked to a pyramid of pizza, Chinese, and maybe the habitual hamburger. You refresh yourself on what little you know of her based on bits you've been fed, and with all the morsels combined, you think you can put together a somewhat shoddy, but accurate, portrait of her. It's clear she's got a big case of wanting to prove something to someone, though what and to whom is the question that still begs to be answered. You wonder where her affection goes, because it _must_ go somewhere, even if it's poorly disguised as teasing and malicious attacks.

You're halfway through your last piece of toast when you hear Kanaya coming down the stairs. You dust the crumbs off your fingers and take another drink before you turn around to face her, and what you don't expect is the small black forest cake she's holding with a pink candle flickering at the very center. The flame dances and although the room is dimly light by overcast skies, the blush on her face and the embarrassed smile are impossible to miss. 

"Happy Birthday, Rose," she says, as she places the cake down before you and reveals a wrapped gift underneath. It is covered in lime green colors and spots of pink, mildly offensive with how bright it is but you think this is Kanaya's attempt at showing a sense of humor. It works. It's so incredibly goofy looking that when you smile, it's unrestrained, and you pull on her sleeve to give her a quick kiss on the lips before moving your plate aside to make room. You actually forgot that it was your birthday today, as the morning started itself like most of your others and Kanaya hadn't mentioned it all either. You're about to chastise her for going through the effort but she looks too pleased with herself and too happy for you that you simply dismiss it. "Thank you, Kanaya. I completely forgot..." you laugh, a bit awkwardly, before holding the present in your lap. "May I?" Her smile stretches just a bit more and she nods, watching you carefully as you gingerly undo the bits of tape on the sides. It is hard, whatever it is, and a little over nine by twelve inches. You think you already know what it might be, but when you finally push the wrapping aside, you are still surprised by how completely beautiful it is. 

It's a leather book, empty and a little weathered. When you carefully open it, you can see the pages are lightly stained with time and judging from the smell, a bit of tea. You, who is so often full of words and theory and speculation, are speechless. "I bought the book at a store when I was out one day, and while it was beautiful as it was, new and untouched, I thought...perhaps you might fancy something more handled," she starts to speak, still embarrassed for reasons you cant understand at all, and she places a tentative hand on your shoulder as she looks down at it. "I noticed you like to keep your notes in books and not on your husktop so it seemed appropriate." You tug her down again and she obliges, making a faint noise of surprise when the kiss you give her this time around is not quick, or chaste for that matter. "It is lovely," you manage to say when you part, and you wonder if anyone's happiness could be spread to you so quickly as hers does. "Thank you. It's perfect." The two of you share slices of cake, which by the way, is buttery and perfect and delicious in ways that even John would envy, and your scheduled break time goes on for longer than it ever has as the two of you roll around for the rest of the afternoon and end up on the sofa, curled around each other playing, god forbid, Mario Kart.

Somewhere along all this, you decided your writing could just take the day off. After all, weren't birthdays mostly about self-indulgence?

#####    


###### 

  
  
**== >Interrupt this cheery mood to bring the nation a special broadcast.**

It's around 9:45 in the evening when the bell rings, and Rose looks up from the giant mass of pillows and blankets they've built in the living room to stare blearily at the door. After hours of video games, more cake, and a delicious homecooked dinner, she was more than ready to settle into a deep food-induced coma. Kanaya makes a small noise of discontentment when Rose untangles herself from her arms, but quiets down when Rose tucks a pillow behind her head. A quick glance at the clock makes it clear to her that it's too late for it to be a surprise visit from any of her friends, making it all the more stranger that they should have a visitor. When she opens the door, she didn't know what to expect, but somehow seeing the drenched visage of Vriska carrying a duffel bag under her arm and covered in thin blankets of snow, dusting her hair and shoulders, is more surprising than anything else her present mind could have conjured. Vriska pinches her face, as if disgusted with herself, and opens her mouth to maybe say something before she snaps it shut, scowl etching even deeper into her face. 

"Power outage. Thems the breaks." That's as much as she manages to shove at Rose before she _actually_ shoves right past her and pushes her way into the house, throwing her bag into the corner before charging upstairs to what Rose assumes to be, the bathroom. 

Rose watches her until her bony shoulders disappear and she looks out the door, surprised by just how high the snow piled up. Frankly, she didn't even know it was snowing to begin with, though to be fair, she hadn't really bothered looking out the window after she and Kanaya got distracted. She closes the door, sets the heater up a notch, and goes to wake Kanaya, who seems as disgruntled as Chinesis at being disturbed from her nap. "Vriska's here," she wakes up, immediately then, carefully rubbing around her eyes before sitting up straight and fixing her rumpled shirt. "Said she had a power outage. I guess this means she's staying for the night?" Rose kneels down to press a kiss to her forehead, taking delight in her disheveled appearance which is undoubtedly Kanaya's second biggest concern at the moment. The first one's too obvious to even talk about. 

"We should clean up...and I'm sure she's cold, so maybe a blanket? Rose, did you set the heat--" "Yes, I did," "Oh, good." There is an awkward beat of silence as the two of them settle into the situation. There's a flushing sound upstairs indicating they've got an unmercifully short period of time to look presentable again, and that's all it takes for the both of them to get into action, folding the blankets and pillows away, leaving only one set on the sofa for Vriska to sleep on. Rose has the time to be amused by how much this all seems to fluster Kanaya though, who is nervous in ways she probably doesn't even notice, and she watches her run into the kitchen to see what there might be to serve their new guest. Rose finds she doesn't mind too much about the interruption, and when Vriska saunters back into the living room, there's only a small pause before she barks, "I'm starving. _Please_ tell me you guys got something worth eating around here."

#####    
  
**== >Be the homewrecker. **

Hey, asshole! You think you're funny?

#####    
**== > Be Vriska Serket. Again. **

As fucking luck would have it, your shitty apartment cant even handle a tiny storm. So what if the snow was like three feet high? How high was that anyways? Vantas was like, what, a little over five feet, right? So that's definitely tiny, for sure. Like embarrassingly small. Like smite-me-out-of-my-existence-I'm-so-shameful-in-all-my-vertical-challenges small. 

...actually, that explained a lot of things about Karkat, didn't it? 

You play around with the food in your plate, smearing the mashed potatoes with the peas to Kanaya's great displeasure, and you are pretty sure this roasted chicken is more expensive than your usual days worth of junk food. That doesn't stop you from pretending like eating is a real, royal pain in the ass though, because gawd, if you start chowing down this stuff as fast as you really want, you're pretty sure Fussyfangs would take that as a green light to switch your entire diet over in a heartbeat. Bluh. You can feel Lalonde's gaze on you from her perch on the kitchen counter, and she's nursing a hot cup of something that smells all kinds of girly and flowery. Wow, you'd hate to be the one to admit that your presence in a room could be anything but badass, but this, this right here, this was bonafide awkward.

You finally bite into the chicken and Kanaya smiles like a mother feeding her newborn or something and you are exasperated all over again, like a dumb instinctive reaction that you figure never really gone up and left when it should have. Rose clears her throat and you chew louder, as if suddenly it's become a competition for who could keep the volume up. "You're welcome to take the sofa for as long as you need. If you get hungry, you're free to take a look around the kitchen, but please, for all our sakes, maybe you should warn us if you decide you want to cook anything." There's a barb in there that's begging for a good picking but Kanaya interjects before you can yank on it, nodding as she gets up to retrieve a drink for herself. "Yes, I wouldn't mind helping you make something. It could be...useful to know how to cook at some point," she says cautiously before returning to the table with a cup of water. 

"Whatever, guys. I'm probably only gonna stay the night anyways. My dumb landlord said the power should be back early in the morning so I might not even be here when you wake up!" Everyone in the room knows that's a bold lie. You've never woken up before noon if you could help it. But still, it's the thought that counts, and the thought is that staying here any longer than you absolutely have to is just not cool. You're well on your way to finishing the entire plate, and when you stab the last few peas onto your fork, Rose hops off her makeshift seat on the counter and walks towards the stairs, throwing a half wave behind her shoulder as she goes. "Well, if that's all decided, I think I'll go to bed now," Kanaya rises after her, but not before filling your glass of water. "Yes, I know it's rather early but I think the both of us are tired." You really don't want to fixate on what's got them exhausted when it's only nine but you know better than to ask questions you don't wanna know the answers to. 

The cats follow up behind Rose and Kanaya gives you one last smile. "You are free to watch the television should you so want. And if you put the dishes in the sink, I'm sure one of us will take care of them in the morning," you wonder how to say thank you without actually having to say Thank You but Kanaya seems like she's one step ahead of you. "You're welcome, Vriska." There might be a double meaning in there somewhere but you are too lazy to focus on it, and you try not to watch her as she heads up the stairs. 

Ugh, stupid friends. At least you think you're friends. Stupid interpersonal relationships. Man, how did it even get like this?

You pass out on the sofa like three hours later with the television on, lulled to sleep by a big-haired man yapping on about how to paint forest trees in an American landscape.


	3. ==> Throw some irons in the fire.

**== > Dream about bacon. Sweet, delicious bacon.**

Or at least that's what you think you are doing until you wake up, sniff the air, and realize that there is actual bacon being cooked somewhere. Your hand flies out automatically, brain already determining the distance between your flailing limb and the dinky phone you usually keep by your pile. You grope around for a full thirty seconds before you realize your floor has suddenly been carpeted and your phone is nowhere even close to you. Finally opening your eyes, you freeze entirely when you realize that you are not in your room.

You're not even in your own apartment.

And that's when you remember, in a quick succession of images, that oh, right, one power outage and awkward visit later, you have landed yourself in the carefully decorated home of Rose Lalonde and a certain fussyfangs. You blink hard, rubbing your hand over your face before sitting up, noticing for the first time that someone had placed a warm blanket over you as you slept on the sofa. It's weird to not wake up surrounded in a mess of miscellaneous fabric and clothes, which is what your pile mostly consisted of. You lick your lips and peer over the sofa, slightly mussing your hair as you scratch yourself.

You have no idea what time it is but you imagine it's still early, as you can see the sunlight coming in, bright and sharp, through the kitchen window. The coffee drip is on and the smells wafts towards you, inviting and warm. The sizzling of the fry pan is there too, interrupted once when you hear the ping of a toaster. Jegus, it's almost like a television commercial or something. You stare into the kitchen a bit longer, still gathering your wits and will to wake up faster, when Rose inches into your vision. You can see her profile, some several feet away, and she's tending to the coffee pot. Hair slightly disturbed from its natural bob, you notice it's the first time you've seen her without her signature hairband. Dressed in a black sweater and soft pants you imagine are her sleeping clothes, she reaches over for three mugs and gets interrupted by Kanaya, who slides in behind her and places her hand on her hips.

Your eyes dart to the side immediately. Wow, what interesting wood grain on that totally ancient bookshelf. This is stupid, you reason, it's not like they're being grossly intimate or super flushed or anything it's just--oh, okay, nevermind. Now they're straight up macking on each other. Sure it's like, tender and slow and nothing like the shitty troll highschool flicks you know exist, but it's still unexpectedly full of sentiment and sincerity. Makes you feel weird all over just watching them. You imagine they'll be done after a while but when you flick your gaze back to check, they're still at it. Oh god, would they ever stop? You want to tear your eyes away but it's like watching a trainwreck almost, and you only make a move when you realize that Rose has totally got her hand snaking up Kanaya's shirt and this shit is about to inch itself out of the PG-13 rating. You roll yourself off the sofa and head towards them, hoping your steps will be heard but of course they're not, because that'd just be too easy. You grab a plate, pile it high with bacon and eggs, and clear your throat to grab a piece of toast and by then, they are not only completely aware of your presence, but Kanaya almost knocks over the coffee pot in her surprise as well.

"Morning, losers." You plop your self down on the kitchen table and dig in, quick to stuff food into your mouth. Kanaya straightens her shirt and smiles at you, cheeks dusted just the slightest as she moves towards her own plate. "Good morning, Vriska. I trust you slept well?" You grunt noncommittally, not wanting to admit that you cant actually remember the last time you woke from such a decent, solid nights sleep, but you opt for shoveling more bacon down instead. Rose on the other hand, is totally nonplussed about being interrupted in her morning quest to stick her tongue down her girlfriends throat. She slides across from you with her own plate, placing a mug of hot coffee in front of you before she takes a careful sip of her own.

"I noticed you left the television on when you slept. Amazing, that Bob Ross. You would think he'd get bored to tears from painting the same trees after all this time." You don't have to glance up from your plate to know she's smiling, reclined on her seat with one leg crossed over the other. You surprise yourself when you realize that one day, you'd really like to see her lose her cool. Stabbing a big piece of scrambled egg, you imagine its her face, and bite into it viscously, not bothering to question where the sudden hostility has flared from. Kanaya is spreading jam on her piece of toast when she speaks, and you watch her while drinking your coffee. It's perfect, milky and sweet (just the way you like it) and you're not surprised that Kanaya remembered your tastes from the first time she had fixed you a cup.

"I will be going into the city today, to drop off some designs and to meet with possible clients. I'm not sure what your plans are, but in any case, I believe Rose will be home working if you should need anything around the house." She takes a careful bite of her toast, crisped around the sides but soft in the center, and she swallows before continuing. "I imagine I'll be back in time for dinner."

You take a deeper gulp of coffee before replying, finally feeling like you've really woken up. "Yeah, well, I don't really care what you do Maryam, I mean, don't fuss about me. I'll call my landlord and figure out when the apartment's fixed up, and then boom, I'll be out of your hair." You flick a crumb off your shirt to emphasize this point, and look up to see Kanaya's brow pinch. "We're happy to have you here, Vriska. It's really not a bother." This is about to get super awkward and touchy-feely, isn't it? You can almost smell Rose's enjoyment, and she's no doubt taking all kinds of notes on this particular interaction between you and Kanaya. Bluh, how annoying. Suddenly though, as if the holy Jegus himself swept down to save your ass from another awkward conversation, your phone rings. Turns out it was under your bag the whole time, which you tossed to the side of the living room when you rolled in last night. You fish it out, not even bothering to give Rose and Kanaya a backwards glance and gratefully answer the call in the living room. It's your landlord.

The moment he begins apologizing, however badly worded, your face scrunches up. The pipe bringing up the heat into your room apparently blew out this morning, which is fucking hilarious actually, considering you could have been fried or burnt to death or something equally shitty had you actually stayed that night. He babbles on about how much the whole thing is going to cost him, which honestly, doesn't matter even the slightest to you, and it isn't until he says that it might be at least a week before you can move back in that you snap back into consciousness. "A whole week?! Are you kidding me?!" He assures you, that no, he is not kidding you, and that he's really not asking you so much as he's straight up telling you. He tells you some other vague dates in the next coming days in which you can come in and pick up your stuff while they figure out how they're gonna fix this thing.

You hang up five minutes later, scowl permanently etched onto your face. So much for hightailing it. You think momentarily if you should hop houses, but the mere thought of waking up in the house of your other friends is just as bad, if not worse. You really cant imagine making it a week without strangling anyone. And you just barely buried the hatchet on the whole friend-culling thing too. You push the heel of your hands deep enough into your eyes to see spots.

When the hell were you ever going to catch a break?

 

* * *

 

**== > See into the future.**

Okay, maybe not, since it's been forever since you've been able to use your powers like that. And even when you did have them at their boon, they were never clear enough and kind enough to work when you needed them to. Still, it doesn't take a Seer to know what's going to happen in the next few moments, and it doesn't take a genius to realize that other sound you're hearing (beyond Vriska's yelling) is the dream of a quick escape being dashed. You finish up the last of your toast and give Kanaya a knowing look. Her lips are pursed and she's watching Vriska's as she paces from side to side. You take the moment of silence to dip down and give her a quick kiss on the cheek, high and close to her eye, before placing your dishes in the sink.

"Change of plans." Vriska comes back into the kitchen, fastidiously avoiding your gaze as she pushes herself onto the kitchen counter. Legs swinging, she tosses her phone once before catching it. "Looks like I cant go back for like...a couple of days." A week, you recall from her earlier shouting, already onto her attempt at keeping things vague. "Something exploded in my apartment and they're--" she never gets to finish her sentence though, because Kanaya cuts in right as she finishes the word "apartment".

"Exploded?! I knew it. That hole in the wall is no place to live in, and it's ridiculous that you should have to pay at all. Don't tell me you're really going to move back?" The both of you are a little alarmed at Kanaya's outburst, and from Vriska's look of surprise, you can tell she's inexperienced in dealing with her fussing when it takes a less than gentle form. "I, uh...." She's still obviously trying to piece together a smart reply but your girlfriend's not done yet, and Kanaya stands up to clear her plate as she continues speaking.

"Vriska, please, be serious here. I know you're unreasonably fond of that place, but you could have been hurt. It's a wonder that something like this hasn't happened sooner." She begins to angrily wash the dishes, yours and Vriska's included. With all the vigor she's scrubbing with, you wonder if you should be worried about the silverware. They weren't exactly cheap, after all, and you are particularly fond of the one with gardenia prints. "You'll stay until you can clear all your belongings from that dreaded place. And then we'll help find you a new apartment." She dries off the dishes with a note of finality, opening cabinets above her head to put them back into place. From the corner of your eye, you see Vriska's mouth opening and closing, her hand rising as if an objection would be stronger with a gesture of sorts. "In the meantime, you'll stay here of course. I know the sofa is no comparison to having your own room, but I'm afraid that's just the way it is. I'd like to think everything else about the house is completely accommodating however. Now, if you'll excuse me, I wouldn't want to be late for this meeting." She dries her hands off with a paper towel, and gives Vriska a look of finality, and bless her soul, Vriska knows better than to bite back. She drops her hand uselessly in response. Kanaya sweeps herself out of the kitchen and you hear her moving around a bit upstairs before she's out of the door for real, leaving you and Vriska still in the wake of her announcement.

Well. This was shaping up to be quite an interesting morning, now wasn't it?

Chinesis rubs her head around your legs and you reach down under the table to scratch behind her ear. "Jegus, what's her deal? Fussyfangs never gets like that." You can tell Vriska is still shocked, and maybe underneath all that, a little impressed at the forcefulness that just revealed itself in Kanaya. You had always known it existed, tempered quietly with other qualities like patience and politeness, and to be honest, it's thrilling every time you see it bubble up to the surface. You smile secretly. "I would venture to say there are many other things about her that you've yet to see." It's a little suggestive, you know, and that's why you say it. Vriska snaps up at you, never one to miss double meanings and double entendres. She scowls, as if right on cue. "Ugh, Lalonde. Can you not?"

She pushes herself off the counter and opens the fridge, moving around as if she's lived here for years. You watch her pour a glass of milk, pausing only to give Gandalf a reluctant petting when he zigzags between her legs as if to say good morning. You think the conversation's over and you're ready to head up to your study and punch out another six pages of your book (five of which will be brutally backspaced and deleted), until Vriska speaks up again, thin milk mustache visible above her upper lip. "You're pretty high and mighty for someone who's only known her for like, a sweep or two. Better get off that high horse, Lalonde, cause there are people like me who've known her since she was a wriggler."

Oh, my. How interesting. Jealousy. You wonder if she's even aware of her own feelings. Leaning forward, you cup a hand to your cheek. "I wasn't under the impression that being aware of someone's existence was the equivalent of getting to know them." You temper the bite of your statement with a smile, though you know it doesn't mean a thing to Vriska, who would take even a compliment as a challenge at best. She bristles, predictably, and you ready yourself for a slew of childish insults.

They never come. You get something else instead.

"Listen, Rose" and you've never heard her say your name like that, laced with so much venom, "You have no idea what kind of a shitbin you're in. This? All of this?" And here, she gestures grandly at the house around you. "Yeah it's real fucking nice and all but don't think I don't see the way this is all dangling on a string." You have to say, for the first time in a long time, you're really shocked. You try to piece together what she's talking about, but she interrupts your thinking, plowing on ahead with more angry words. "I know I haven't exactly been the best fucking moiral or friend to Kanaya during the game but seeing her trapped like this, in your dumb web of feelings and quadrant-breaking...it's starting to get real fucking annoying and suspicious." She leaps off her seat at the kitchen counter and takes a step towards you, missing the way the cats dart around the kitchen, tails high and tense. "So you better not fuck it up." She takes another step towards you, lip twitching to reveal an incisor, sharp and white, and the message is clear. It's likely a mixture of helplessness, loneliness, and jealousy that's causing this unexpected emotional molotov. It's not everyday you get the rug slipped out from under you, but you manage to theorize that though she was probably not too fond of her apartment, she probably relied on the independence it gave her. Or at least, the illusion of independence. Your brain is working a hundred miles a minute, trying to make up for that beat of surprise. An angry Serket is not exactly what you want to be dealing with for the rest of the day, and more than anything, you remember Kanaya and her seed of hope that the three of you would get along. Heaven knows your girlfriend deserves that much for putting up with your melodrama every so often.

"I assure you, I have no plans of 'fucking it up.'" Your voice is clear and sure, and it seems to break through her haze. "Trust me, Kanaya Maryam is someone I'm quite serious about. You see, despite what it looks like, we're very well committed to each other. Honestly, there's no one else I'd rather be with." Sure, it's a little cheesy, but you mean every word of it. While your relationship with Kanaya had its fair share of problems at times, you find it hard to imagine living without her now. She holds your gaze and stiffens when she realizes just how much she's reacted to you. Probably because she understands you've been analyzing her from every possible angle. She finishes the rest of her milk in one gulp. "Then don't forget it," she says with finality, gruff and to the point as she shoves past you and out of the kitchen. You hear the rustling of a bag before the door slams, and peering out the window reveals the back of Vriska's head before she eventually turns out of sight. You stay seated for a moment more before heading up to your studio.

What an interesting morning, indeed.

* * *

You're halfway through a particularly well-written (in your humble opinion at least) paragraph about the most recent trench of despair your protagonist has fallen into when you hear the front door open. Well, more like smash open, and the disruptive sounds from downstairs are more than enough to tell you that Vriska's returned. When she left, you pieced together that she was probably headed to her apartment to pick up more of her belongings, since you remember her mentioning to Kanaya once that she doesn't work on weekends. You stop your typing to stare at your most recently added words before sighing, saving the word file, and closing your laptop. It's mid-afternoon now, and you take her arrival as a cue for your usual break.

When you go downstairs, you lean against the doorframe and watch her throw another two bags to the side of the living room. She's listening to music and you're not surprised to notice that she's well over any healthy volume level. It bleeds out from the side of her earphones, telling you she's rocking out to something that sounds more like a garbage disposal. You watch her, waiting for her to notice you. She's changed clothes, thrown on a leather jacket over her rumpled tee. Her jeans, though not the same pair from before, are somehow still as dirty-looking. You wonder if that's supposed to be a fashion statement. Somewhere out there you imagine Kanaya shedding a single tear. She turns around abruptly while you're still staring at her jeans, and it's a little unfortunate that the stain you were observing is so close to her ass because when she notices your gaze, she snaps at you instantly.

"Lalonde, are you checking me out? You were totally checking out my ass just now." It's not complete offense coloring that statement, and you can tell by the way that particular grin spreads on her face that she's finding the whole thing a little hilarious. Frankly, so are you. "Don't you think it's a little unflattering to be walking around with pants that make you look like you cant wipe up after yourself? What is that, chili?" You point at the offending stain, and Vriska seems mildly disappointed that you didn't rise to the bait. Still, she shrugs it off, continuing to rummage through her bags. "Oh, screw off. Not everyone's into your goth sweaters and boring knits. Live a little, Lalonde." You watch her for a moment longer before going into the kitchen to fill your cup of tea. When you come back, she's sitting on the sofa, and the televisions on. You can tell she's trying to figure out how to start up your Gamecube, and you're more than happy to watch her struggle with the offending cables for a bit longer before you volunteer to help. You consider it a small payback for the unwarranted accusation she threw your way this morning. It's not fun to have to defend yourself to a houseguest and you always believed that a tiny dose of pettiness every so often was good for the mental health. When it looks like she's about to snap the console in half, you sweep in, hooking the game up in a matter of seconds while grabbing two controllers.

"Who invited you?" Vriska says, grudgingly accepting the second controller. You smile cheekily back. "I could ask the same of you." You can see by the pinch of her brow that you've won that round, and you give yourself a small pat on the back for your wit. She allows you to setup the game settings and by the time you're halfway through the first map, you're willing to accept that the rest of the tournament will be spent in this somewhat awkward silence. Of course, Vriska, never wanting to be outdone, must have picked up on your assumption because seconds after you think it, she starts talking a mile a minute. Well, more like cursing a mile a minute. She's sixth place, and quickly falling behind.

"Wow, fuck this game! This is stupid! Who even made this? And who the hell put that banana there?!" You have to admit, she's bad at MarioKart in a kind of admirable way. You've never seen anyone fall for all the traps before. When you win first place, you gingerly pat her on the shoulder, completely aware of how patronizing it is. She scowls and shoves you off, coming into 8th place a minute later. You're about to head back up with your drink, having spent enough time away from your novel, but Vriska doesn't seem to have any intentions of letting you go so easily. "What, you're going back up to write your old man magic porn? Don't you ever get bored of the stuff?" Old man magic porn. Well, you have to admit, that one's a first. She's picking at the dirt under her nails, not even glancing at you to hear your answer before she plows on. "Don't you have any other hobbies? Don't you do anything fun?"

You want to argue that you just spent the last fifteen minutes playing a video game with her, but you don't really know if you would have considered what happened just now as a good time. Still, you're not one to miss a chance in turning the tables when you can. "And what about you? I cant imagine the great Vriska Serket just sits around all day. Shouldn't you be out there having an adventure of sorts?" You can tell you've hit somewhat of a sour note because her eyes harden immediately. You change tactics.

"What's your job like?" She's thrown off by your question, you can tell, but she answers you quickly anyway. "Boring as shit!" She relaxes again before barreling on about how she hates her day job, and you marvel at how easily she flits from one emotion to the next.

 

**== > Allow the inevitable conversational parry to unfold.**

Rose and Vriska spend the next two hours talking.

None of them expect it to happen, and maybe it's because Vriska feels like a bit of a douche-nugget for the way she lost her shit this morning. She's got a feeling she knows why she flew off the handle but knowing why and talking about it are no way in hell the same thing. Still, she can admit, however reluctantly, that its not as if Rose is a boring person. She might have boring interests but it's not like she's dim, and Vriska can admit to having the tiniest bit of fun when the two of them are going at each other with thinly veiled insults. It's obvious to them both that Kanaya cant indulge that particular itch. By the time 5:30 rolls around, they're both sitting across from each other on the sofa, unexpectedly relaxed. Still, it's hard for Rose Lalonde to ever stop analyzing, and the past two hours have resulted in a plethora of internalized judgements and passive observations. In that interesting pocket of time, they've managed to somehow laugh at the same things (and not at each other) and any tension surrounding romantic histories have been put on hold.

They're in a stalemate, of sorts.

Vriska decides Rose isn't such a snobby princess. Rose decides she was absolutely right to think Vriska would be an interesting challenge. Both of them still think it's a competition somehow.

Kanaya Maryam is miles away from home but her presence rests between them on that sofa, like a thin coat of molecules that sits in the air. Rose isn't aware yet that the curiosity she's experiencing about Vriska isn't as innocuous as it seems, and Vriska's too familiar with the face of jealousy to pretend it doesn't exist. Again, a stalemate of sorts.

"So...what's Fussyfangs like as an actual matesprit?" She asks without really thinking and it's too late to eat the words back. Rose blinks, surprised, but realizes that maybe the past two hours have really just been foreplay to get to this point. Never one to drop the ball, she answers, as honestly as she can afford. "Lovely. Very....safe." Vriska blanches at that word, the complete antithesis of anything she'd ever actively search for. Still, Rose laughs a bit at the reaction and opts for another explanation. "Well, I cant imagine you wouldn't be able to piece together a somewhat accurate idea of it. You do know her quite well, don't you?" The barb there is less prickly than any other she's offered, and Vriska, for once, doesn't pick a fight about it. "Yeah, well. It's not exactly like shit was smooth sailing between us." There's the flash of resentment that passes through her eyes before it moves on, and Vriska picks at the stitching on the sofa before continuing. "Besides, I didn't figure it out that she had flushed feelings for me until like sweeps after the fact or something. She should have just said something!" A beat of pause passes as both of them imagine what had happened if Kanaya had confessed.

Rose takes a sip of tea that's long grown cold before stating, plainly, "Maybe that's a conversation you should be having with her and not me."

It's true, and Vriska hates to acknowledge it. "Yeah, maybe."

Rose weighs the consequences of what she's about to say for maybe four full minutes before she actually says it. It could go badly and reverse any of the bonding they've shared just now or...

"Vriska, have you ever had flushed feelings for Kanaya?"

 

**== > Drop the proverbial groceries on the floor like a totally ungraceful idiot.**

Your mouth flaps open uselessly at Lalonde's question. Damn, what was it with her and always trying to flip shit over when you least expected it?! That shit was so uncool. Ignoring for a moment that you've employed similar tactics in the past, you focus all your efforts into figuring out the best way to answer that soap-opera of a question. It's too fucking late now to just laugh and brush it off, because the mood's all funky and weird and plus, you waited way too long to reply. Your thinkpan's sloshing around too slowly to come up with an elaborate lie and you hate yourself for doing it, but you end up vomiting the truth.

"...I...don't know." It's bland. It's boring. It's undecorated. And you feel like the biggest moron after you say it but you don't miss the way Rose's face changes, in a moment of genuine emotion that you know she couldn't control. What did you see just then? Was that surprise? Or understanding? What the everloving fuck? The afternoon started out with a shitty video game console and somehow, you've ended up here like a total smuck being played by Lalonde's manipulative psychobabble.

"What the hell kind of question is that anyways?" You're ready to bare your teeth again, already feeling edgy and on the defensive from that costly shred of vulnerability. You can tell Rose is trying to figure out the best way to fix this but she doesn't get a chance to edge in a word, because just as she opens her mouth, the front door opens. And for whatever dumb goddamn reason, the two of you leap off the sofa, as if caught with your hands in a cookie jar and when Kanaya turns to catch you two, her eyebrow is perfectly raised.

"...am I interrupting something?"

You're struck silent for one whole second before you lose it completely. How fucking ridiculous is this? Is your life actually turning into the shitty grade-A movie material Karkat splooges over? Your laughter breaks the tension though, and when you finally catch your breath, you notice that Rose has already regained her composure. "Oh god, look Maryam, just because we're not at each other's throats for once doesn't mean you have anything to get all worked up about." You casually put one hand to your hip, as if to prove just how casual this whole thing is. Casual, man. Casual. Nowhere near getting all knee-deep in a feelings jam about quadrants and unrequited bullshit and/or wriggler melodrama.

Kanaya blinks slowly and you're careful to hold your pose because dammit if she hasn't caught you once or twice before, but it seems whatever reluctance she was about to express wasn't worth it because she ends up releasing a small sigh. She shrugs and looks down at the large brown bag in her arms. "I bought dinner home. I hope you two don't mind Thai?" Shit no you don't mind Thai, and you tell her as much though honestly she could have brought home dogfood and you'd have been just as glad for the change in conversation. As the three of you slink over to the kitchen, you sneak a glance at Lalonde and find she's already looking at you. Her expression is cloudy for a moment before you recognize a flicker of something, a hint of a threat, a suggestion or internal message of _this conversation isn't over, Vriska._

Fuck. It hasn't even been two whole days since you've landed yourself in this hellhole and you've got a bad feeling there's about to be way more irons thrown into the fire. It may just be too many irons, even for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops, an update. not sure if I can finish this, but I suppose we'll just sit tight and see. thank you for reading & enjoying!


	4. ==> Weave those tangled webs.

**== > Quell all suspicion. Quell any and all fussy urges.**

Or at least that's what you want yourself to do. You set the the table quickly, working around Rose who dips under you to pull some plates from the lower cabinet. You're distracted, and it's not from the conversation with your client earlier today, but from the peculiar manner in which Vriska and Rose greeted you moments ago. You feel terribly silly because of course the two of them would have interacted today, in fact, you remind yourself that that's what you had hoped for. It was just a little alarming how...fast it happened. Well, you suppose that's what you get when you underestimate Rose's perverse joy in rising to unspoken challenges. Or even Vriska's bad tendency of taking the bait. You smile wryly to yourself. There was never going to be a dull moment with those two, was there? 

 The smell of pad thai and coconut shrimp fills the air when you unbox the food, and Vriska's stomach grumbles loudly. "My, if you were that hungry all this time, you should have just said something. Surely you weren't embarrassed to ask?" Rose is smiling cheekily when she speaks and you don't have to turn your head to know that Vriska is probably embarrassed, just a tiny bit, before covering it up with a snarl of some kind.  

"As if." You silence the two by beginning to portion some food onto their plates, and between the scoops of jasmine rice, noodles, pan-fried vegetables and shrimp, it's clear that there are more important things than continuing a petty argument. You take a bite and realize you were quite a bit hungrier than you thought. Beside you, Vriska doesn't waste a single moment in shoving down forkful after forkful of food down her mouth. It's a little gross and a tiny bit impressive how much her tiny frame can tuck away. You imagine Rose feels the same and the two of you share a quick look that says as much. "So? How was your meeting, Kanaya?" Rose pierces a sizable piece of shrimp onto her fork before popping it in her mouth, and Vriska looks over at you from the top of her plate. You fidget in your seat a little, twirling up some noodles, and recall the events of the meeting. 

"Inconclusive, unfortunately. My latest client seems adamant on sticking with the horrible color palette he showed me last week, even in light of the better choices I offered. I'm afraid I might have to acquiesce in this case, or at the very least, stall while I try to find a way to change his mind..." It really was a shame that he seemed so bull-headed about certain things, as he was a rather nice fellow otherwise. You imagine that maybe the colors have some kind of sentimental, nostalgic value attached to them. You really hope so, because there was no way in hell any right-minded person would think that those particular shades of red and purple could possibly look good together.  

Rose laughs, that short laugh that comes when she finds something genuinely funny, and you're not surprised to feel your heart flutter just the same as it did when you were first getting to know her. "Oh, oh wow. That's awful. But you know, it would probably be far easier to nudge him around until he stumbles across better colors on his own. Trick him into thinking it was his idea. It's obvious he doesn't like being told what to do in that regard." You perk up at this. Vriska slows down her eating and you watch from your periphery as she downs half her glass of orange juice in one gulp.  

"For once, Lalonde is onto something." Vriska gestures with her fork at you, a clump of noodles dangling from the tips. "You gotta sucker him into feeling like he came across it all by himself! Idiots like that cant just be dragged by the horns, it's a total waste of your time." You wonder briefly if she's referring to Tavros but you push the thought away, choosing instead to be amused at how much fun the two of them seem have in assessing the situation. That kind of thinking simply wasn't your natural way of approach. Still, it's satisfying somehow to watch Vriska and Rose play it out, and you nod slowly to show you are thinking about it. "...yes...I suppose I see what you are getting at. I'm not quite sure how to go about it, but I think I may have an idea."  

It couldn't hurt to make prototypes of the colors you wanted anyways. You had always worked quickly, and maybe if you casually tucked your samples into the folio of designs he requested, something new would catch his eye. The rest of the meal passes in relative silence, interrupted every so often when the cats brush themselves against your legs to plead for scraps. When Rose is finished, she rises to place her dishes in the sink and pets Gandalf. 

"I hate to dine and dash but there's an appointment I have to make." You raise an eyebrow at this. "An appointment? Jeegus, could you be any more vague?" Vriska's picking at her teeth with a stray toothpick from the bag of napkins and forks the restaurant gave you, and you try to remember if Rose has ever made mention of this before. "Dave called earlier today. Something about an urgent meeting that is, and I quote, 'so intensely necessary and secret'. Knowing that idiot and his flair for the dramatic, it's probably nothing." She sighs theatrically, as if she could make him hear her exasperation. "I may be back late, so don't worry about me." You blink slowly and nod, rising to clear your plate as well. "I see. Please travel safely, Rose. And tell Dave I said hello." 

Vriska rolls her eyes at this moment, no doubt disgusted by how domestic it all is. "Kanaya, she's like...practically going down the block or something. It's like a fifteen minute walk! Even Lalonde can't fuck it up that badly." She flicks the used toothpick into the garbage and scratches at her eye-patch. You make an internal note to tell her that the stitching on the side of the fabric is wearing thin. "How nice to see you vouch for me, Vriska. Really, I'm touched." Rose gives Gandalf one final pet before heading upstairs, presumably for her coat. "You'll entertain Kanaya for the evening though, wont you? Keep her distracted from all the worrying? Maybe even learn a little more about each other?" There's a suggestive tone to her voice and it makes you remember how much Rose likes to play with fire, and almost always at the cost of someone else. This time though, you're not sure who the target is. Vriska stands to dump her own plates in the sink before lifting herself up on the kitchen counter. Her legs dangle for a moment and it's quiet between you two until Rose walks back down the stairs, peacoat around her shoulders. You clear your throat.

"Don't forget a scarf. It's cold out there." She smiles at you, unable to hide a bit of fondness. "Yes, I know. Well. I'm off now. You two behave yourselves. And don't stay up waiting for me either." You don't have the time to say a single word otherwise before she's out the door. 

 

* * *

  

**== > Enter the spider. **

So Lalonde was straight up ditching you to deal with Kanaya now, was she? You're not sure what she's planning, though you think that's probably a good thing because who the hell would willingly want to be in the brain of Rose Lalonde anyways. You lean your weight back into your hands and watch Kanaya, who is keeping herself busy by wiping down the table. The cats mewl lazily before slinking out of the kitchen, no longer interested in the human company without the presence of food to hold their attention. What now? Part of you is still thinking about Rose's question. Honestly, after the whole game ended, you thought you just wanted to bury the fucking hatchet and call it a day. No need to dig into shitty emotional baggage, or even try to finish connecting the dots within that proverbial clusterfuck you call your _feelings_. You always knew you cared about Kanaya, in your own stupid way. And who cared who knew? It wasn't their goddamn business to begin with.  

And yeah, okay, it just so happened that your brand of caring could be hurtful sometimes. Deadly, even.

You make a face, though Kanaya doesn't see it, and you wonder if that weird feeling in your gut is guilt or indigestion. So focused you are in your thoughts that you almost miss the end of Kanaya's statement.  

"--so I could fix it for you, if you'd like." 

You blink. "Wait, what?" She looks at you patiently, completely unbothered that you weren't paying attention. "I said I noticed your eye-patch was beginning to fall apart. I could fix it for you now, if you'd like." Leave it to Maryam to notice something as tiny as that. Still, you're a bit surprised and a little touched that even now, she hasn't stopped noticing these small things about you. You shrug coolly, determined from letting it show. "...yeah, okay. Not that it matters, but hell, if it gives you something to do then whatever." God, that sounds weak even to your ears but she takes it, turning around and gesturing you to follow her up the stairs and into her studio. You've only gone up to use the bathroom, and you gotta admit, you're kinda curious about what the rest of the house looks like. Sure you could have just patrolled around on your own but hey, even you've got some limits about personal space. 

"You'll have to excuse me, it's a little bit messy at the moment...I haven't found the time yet to clean up as I'd like." You scoff because you just know that the room's gonna be squeaky clean, and when she opens the door, you're floored because not only is it as clean and orderly as you suspected, it's also pretty interesting too. A giant wooden desk sits at the side of the room, covered in drafting material and art supplies and of course, the rest of the room is sensibly decorated with small mementos and trinkets from god knows where. There's a massive bookshelf covered with novels and catalogs and the whole place just seems so incredibly...lived in. You flash back for a moment to your shitty excuse of an apartment and see why Kanaya had such beef with your living conditions. Bluh, whatever. 

"Messy? This is a fucking pig sty!" You push your finger against her shoulder and smirk crookedly. "Be real, Kanaya. You couldn't live messy even if you tried." She sighs, the tiniest bit exasperated. "Yes, well, maybe it's not something you should be so proud of yourself, Vriska..." You bark at that before making yourself comfortable on the edge of a small sofa in the back of the room. It's incredibly plush and small, and you sink immediately into it. "Well fix away, fussyfangs! Your client is ready." She blinks at you, already so situated in her studio space, before reaching for her sewing kit. It's a small green box and it rattles when she sets it down by you. When she kneels over you, you're a little taken aback by the sudden scent of pine and flowers. You don't know what kind of flower it is (you never cared for that kind of information) but to your nose, it smells inoffensive and sweet.

Of course Kanaya would wear perfume. You don't know how you never noticed, or maybe this is a new development? Whatever it is, it's...nice. 

"May I?" There she goes, interrupting your train of thought again, and you nod jerkily before you feel the smooth, cool tips of her fingers on your face. For the quickest of moments, your eye flutters shut and you inadvertently exhale as the patch slides off. Your eyes crack open, both of them this time, and you are staring dead into the eyes of Kanaya Maryam who is inches away from you. You wonder dumbly when she got so close and then that scent returns, thinly veiled but fragrant and you think you could learn how to get used to a smell so pleasant. It's been a while since you exposed your injured eye, and part of you never got over the deformity, some small nugget of you still shirks away in shame and anger when you have to reveal it. You wonder if she thinks its ugly, or creepy, or just straight up weird. 

From your side view, you see her hand twitch, still poised by your cheek and holding onto the string of your eye-patch. 

"Does it ever hurt?" 

You swallow thickly, trying to sound casual. "Sometimes. Mostly it just itches." She hums in response, and your breath catches when you feel her fingers on your face. The touch is incredibly gentle and light, and she holds it there, tentative. You feel the soft skin of her hands as it trails down the side of your cheek. It's over in a flash though, and she turns from you quickly, clearing her throat as she clumsily opens the latch on the sewing box. What the fuck was that? You almost end up saying it, but truth be told, you don't really want to scare her off. You have no idea what it means, or why you're suddenly a million times more fucking aware of how everything is touching your body at this very moment but for once in your life, you decide to just shut the fuck up and think really really carefully before doing anything. 

Kanaya sets the stitch like a pro, blitzing through all the steps as if they came to her as easily as breathing, and you're a little envious that anyone could be so naturally attuned. You're quiet the whole time, and you take this opportunity to watch her carefully. She's hunched over you, having seated herself on the ground by your feet. Her hair has grown a bit, and you notice the way the locks at the back of her hair curl around the nape of her neck. Her lashes flutter every so often as she sets to finishing the patch, and her hands work quickly and seamlessly. To you, she looks both the same and so different from the girl you grew up with back in Alternia. Hit with a punch of nostalgia, you think about that hot dessert climate and the ruthless terrain you once called your home. You remember her hive and the cot she made for you for those nights you were too lazy to return to your own. You remember her brushing your unruly hair, or at least trying to untangle the knots that would accumulate no matter what you did. You remember seeking her counsel for things you never cared too much about, just because part of you knew she liked getting involved in your dumb problems. You remember the weird way she reacted when you told her about Tavros, and then realize that maybe it wasn't so weird when you also remember that you didn't so much _tell_ her as you did mistakenly reveal _._

Jeegus, you could be such a fuckup sometimes. 

You settle around uncomfortably for a moment, unused to unpacking so many feelings at once. There was a reason you always had your television blasting back in your apartment. It did well to keep the noise level in your own goddamn head down to a manageable level. Your movement doesn't go by unnoticed though, and Kanaya glances up at you as she pulls another loop through the thread. "Are you alright?" You return her gaze and try not to imagine what she sees. No doubt it's a view of some messed up idiot with a fucked up eye and a temper problem. Why'd she even let you in her house anyways? Ughhh. 

"...hey, look. I've got something to say." That catches her attention pretty quickly. She pauses and sets her needle down, leaning back a bit to look at you more clearly. The way she does this almost makes you feel like she was expecting this to happen, and you wonder if everyone in this goddamn house has psychic abilities. "I don't think I ever got the chance to actually tell you...but ugh, I don't know, I'm sorry for all the shit I did to you during our session. I mean, I thought I was doing the right thing then. I was trying to win and I wasn't really any good at thinking about you guys, but that didn't mean I didn't fucking _care._ I was just...bad at it, you know? And bluh, I had no idea that maybe you were...waxing red for me at some point. Shit if I knew, maybe I wouldn't have been so fucking stupid about some of the stuff I said." 

Holy shit, you release a breath you didn't know you were even holding. You don't even know where that came from. You find yourself rubbing a hand over your face self-consciously and you hope you're red in the face because that would just be the icing on this shit-tier cake. There's silence. Mostly you just want to disappear right into the depths of the sofa.

 

* * *

 

**== > In which you unexpectedly get what you didn't know you wanted. **

Which is really just a far more elegant way of expressing how at a loss you are. Of all the things for Vriska to say to you at this point in your life, an apology really wasn't at the top of that list. You had speculated that it might never come, and you made due with that, accepting in part that it was because of her nature and the fact that she never understood the power or necessity of apologizing. Obviously, not anymore. You find that this is a surprise you are glad for though, because though you never expected to hear it, the sincerity in her voice touches you right to the core and you feel a massive burden lift off your chest. 

"I...thank you, Vriska." And while you know you don't have to say it, you continue, because maybe she doesn't know yet know how much she needs to hear the next part. "I forgive you." Her surprise is evident, and she blinks rapidly. It's so strange to see her with both eyes visible but you find the contrast striking, a suiting visual for all the roughness that lies within her. There's nothing unappealing about it to you. In fact, as hard as it is to believe, there is very little about Vriska Serket that is unappealing to you. There's certainly not enough to compete with how much you've grown to care about her. All the venom, all the poison, all the kicking and screaming was just cover up for what lay before you now. An incredibly vulnerable girl with a boatload of poorly made decisions and an arsenal of dangerous antics to keep others at bay. Your heart tugs, and all the fondness and affection you ever tried to keep contained thrashes inside of you. You know your softness for Vriska is nothing like your softness for Rose, but it scares you how closely they sit. 

 You feel that very same softness fill you and without thinking too much about it, you reach out and hold Vriska's hand in your own. It's calloused, as you expected, and the tops of her knuckles are dry and rough. You run your thumb over them, an oddly human gesture you grew fond of after the first time Rose bestowed it upon you for comfort. Vriska still hasn't spoken a single word and while that unnerves you a little, you think maybe it's a good thing she hasn't blurted out anything rash. Her palms are a little damp but that doesn't bother you, and you continue to hold hers until finally, she clears her throat. 

"...well, shit. It's been a while since we had a feelings jam." It's true, you cant remember the last one you shared. She sighs dramatically before tugging at you, her nails scraping against the side of your fingers. "Don't know if this is what Lalonde meant by me 'entertaining you' but dammit if we didn't put on a fucking show." She's smiling again, teeth bared, and all the parts of your heart that push blood for Vriska seem to contact all at once. 

It's only then that you realize how absolutely ridiculous it was for you to believe you had ever stopped feeling flushed for her. 

"Anyways, I'm bored already. Thanks for fixing the patch, Fussyfangs. Now let's go do something _fun._ I brought some sweet movies back from my apartment and I think it's about time we fixed your movie tastes with some real quality material instead of that rainbow-drinking trash you love so much." She's standing up and tugging you out the room before you can object, and you barely have the time to shut the lights and close your door before she drags you down to the living room. 

 

* * *

   

Turns out that "real quality material" is actually just Con Air. 

You've learned how to tune out bad movies as a self-preservation technique since your friendship with Karkat developed and so you do exactly that. Three and a half hours later, she's totally passed out, having let go of your hand somewhere in the middle of a movie called Grindhouse. That's okay though, because she's still curled up beside you drooling lightly on your shoulder. You're tempted to turn the television off but the remote is too far, and moving risks waking Vriska. You sit still like this for a while, losing track of time as you find yourself meditating on all the strange things that have happened lately. It's hard to ignore how your propensity for complicated relationships and quadrant infidelity doesn't seem to have lessened over the years. Turning your gaze from the screen, you look down at Vriska, who even with her hair completely rumpled and glasses askew, still looks terribly beautiful to you. 

Behind you, the sound of your front door opening alerts you to a new presence and you turn to see Rose. She's dusting the snow off her jacket and there is a bright flush sitting high on her cheeks, evidence of how cold it is outside. You immediately want to swoop over and hold her, to warm her face with your hands, and as if she could feel your yearning, she turns towards you and smiles when she hangs her jacket to dry. 

"Still awake, I see." You hum in response, not wanting to make too much noise. You gesture with a tilt of your head towards Vriska, who has moved deeper into her slumber with the new addition of some snoring. "How lovely." Rose is smirking and when she approaches you, there is no pause in her movements as she swoops down to lock lips with you. Her mouth is cold, tongue warm, and you can taste the slightest hint of alcohol. You swallow your worry because you know what Rose looks like when she's had too much to drink, and for now, it seems like she exerted a fair amount of control in terms of her consumption. You will continue to watch regardless though, just to be safe. 

"Will you turn off the television? I think we can leave Vriska to sleep now. I was debating whether or not I should risk moving but something tells me she wont wake now if I move." Rose walks over to turn the telly off and you smoothly, or as smoothly as you can, slip out from under Vriska. She mumbles a bit, making indecipherable noises before she buries her face into the sofa. You reach over and place a blanket over her, standing to dim the lights. "Would you like some tea before bed?" Rose blinks, the flush from the cold still fading from her face. "Yes, of course." 

The two of you walk to the kitchen together and you set the kettle right away, reaching for your favorite mugs. She's always been sweet on the set you received from one of your clients who worked with you from India. At the end of the project, they sent you a beautiful tea set with tiny elephants and brightly colored geometric shapes. You place two teabags in them, your usual nighttime favorite of pomegranate tea. Rose has already seated herself on her usual chair, legs crossed and idly petting Chinesis who is seated comfortably on her lap.  

"How is Dave?" Rose tilts her head and you notice the way her bangs stick to her head, slightly wet from being outside. "Oh, he'll be fine." You wait for her to extrapolate. "It was about some fight he had with Terezi. Funny that he should come to me for relationship counseling, but I suppose John and Jade aren't quite eligible in the same way I might be." She's tired, you can hear it, and you wonder what kind of advice she might have given him tonight. With Rose, it was always so hard to tell. Her brand of cynicism was unique in the sense that it was mostly self-defense, so when faced with having to offer true condolence or emphatic advice, it was always interesting to see how she navigated that emotional space. You can sense she's drifting in her thoughts a bit, and the kettle alerts you both that it's finished with a low whistle. After pouring the hot water into the cups, you move swiftly to sit beside her at the table. Chinesis takes this moment to jump off, and the two of your cats dance between your legs for a bit before curling up together by the rug.  

Rose takes a small sip of her drink. "And how was your evening with Vriska?" You take a sip of your own tea, albeit a longer one. "It was...ah, informative." She raises a delicate eyebrow, and it is incredibly charming to you. It always has been. "She apologized to me. Vriska admit she was sorry about how she acted in the game." Rose is surprised by this, and doesn't bother masking it. "My, that's unexpected." That was one way to put it. The two of you continue staring at each other and you wonder how much else you can share. "We talked about the past. I told her I forgave her." Rose sets her cup down and reaches out for your hand, an extension you happily accept. Unlike Vriska's, hers is warm and smooth, with perfectly trimmed nails and sloped fingers. You know exactly what this hand feels like, you have memorized every inch and surface. 

"Rose, you know I'm still flushed for Vriska." Rose smiles easily at this. "I believe the proper terminology on this planet is love, Kanaya." You flush a bit, still unused to Rose being so upfront about the whole ordeal. "...but you also know I'm flushed for you, Rose. Deeply." The smile fades from her face and is replaced with something else. There's a softness in her expression and you wish you had the time to study it longer. She interrupts you when she leans forward to kiss you. This is not the chaste kiss from before. Somewhere between the thin sliver of gin, there is longing, and you gasp slightly when Rose bites at your lower lip. It is an act of possession, and she punctuates it with a swift sweep of her tongue as she kisses you hungrily. When she finally parts from you, your breath is a little ragged and you can feel the slow burning in your chest that flutters for something more. 

"It's really an interesting situation we're in. You're lucky I trust you." She's laughing when she says it and your tea sits beside you, cooling fast. "Let's just see what happens. I've been having fun so far." Her hand is still entangled in yours, and she flips it over to press a kiss to your palm. Her breath tickles you, and when her eyes flick up to meet your gaze, she speaks quietly above your hand. "...and I mean really, we've got nothing to lose." It's ambiguous what she means but you already know there's no point in asking her to explain herself. She stands up and you follow her up to your shared bedroom. 

You already knew you would be spending the rest of your life puzzling over the mystery that was Rose Lalonde. There's only now the possibility that a trouble-making Serket might have also found its way thrown into the mix. 

You wonder just how much a troll can have to fuss about before imploding all together. 

 


	5. ==> Get caught in said web. Remove said irons from the fire.

**== > Get hit with a sudden rush of literary inspiration.**

 No? Well, it was worth a try.

You sigh, pausing over your keyboard as you stare out the frosted window pane. It's a mixture of rain and snow out there, and you grimace at how dirty you know the driveway and front porch will be the end of the day. If you were the nostalgic type, you might be keen to recall how many of your younger years were spent in a scene just like this, fingers poised over keys and dressed in a hand-knit sweater too large for your body. It's funny what things stand the test of time and what kinds of things stay the same.

It's Monday, meaning Kanaya is spending the afternoon at the office away from home and while that usually doesn't affect you in the slightest, today you are feeling uncomfortable with the quietness of the house. A glance at the clock tells you it's been three hours since you opened the empty word document on your screen, and so with a roll of your eyes, you minimize the page and admit defeat to the stone cold fact that no, you are probably not going to get anything decent down today.

You stretch your legs, rise, and make your way downstairs.

Vriska's still sleeping, buried completely under blankets and the only way you can tell she's even there is by the rise and fall of her breath from under the pile of fabric. You imagine she has to get up at some point for her shift at the video store, and you wonder vaguely if she remembered to set an alarm. Gandalf is alarmed by your presence in the kitchen, as your scheduled break time for tea and toast is a couple hours early, but regardless he greets you with a soft mewl and weaves between your legs.

Careful not to step on him, you fix yourself a pot of coffee and wander back into the living room. Picking up some of the fallen pillows on the side of the sofa, you're about to head back for the kitchen when Vriska makes a noise beside you. You pause and watch as her head pokes out from the blankets, hair mussed, and she mumbles a few words, none of which you can hear. You're about to ask her to repeat herself when she makes another movement: a sleep ridden, half-hearted kick of her legs to push the blanket away from her body.

You watch, amused.

Her bangs are covering her face but when she turns to mumble more into her pillow, you realize with a note of surprise that her eye-patch is missing. The view of exposed skin is new to you, and the scar tissue on her eyelid is discolored and jagged, white and diagonal. You immediately remember your earlier conversation in the kitchen: the way her eyes narrowed as she warned you not to hurt Kanaya, not to get cocky with how easy it was to be happy. You also remember the way she froze up when you asked her about her feelings, the skittering of stark honesty before the retaliation of a barbed response. The signature furrow between her brows is absent, and the pinch of her snarl and exposed canines is missing from the canvas of her face. As she lays before you now, relaxed and unguarded, you think you can see the little bit of softness that Kanaya tends to with such care.

Seeing her like this, with unruly black hair framing her face and lanky body swallowed by blankets, those acidic words seem less poisonous, a little less dangerous. You always knew to some extent that all her hostility came from a place of insecurity, but it isn't until you see her curled up before you that you remember that for all the kicks and screams, she's just as lost as the rest of you. Probably even more so.

My, my, you want to laugh at how easily and quickly this small tendril of pity and sympathy snuck up on you.

You hadn't expected to come to care or get too invested, but at this point you think it'd be a lie to say your interest in Vriska was strictkly for Kanaya's sake. After all, who could resist not wanting to know what made her tick, or what stirred the pot inside that volatile mind of hers? What values could she hold dear, and what was she looking for in this place so alien and far-removed from what she knew? She was a psychological case waiting to be cracked, and you wanted to be the one to crack it. Curiosity always did get the best of you, and to no ones surprise, it seems to have led you down another path you didn't quite plan for.

But still, isn't this what you wanted? A little bit of variety? Something new in your life? A wry smile finds itself on your face and you realize you are envious of the way that Vriska has come to manipulate others so unknowingly. Still, you are not too worried about it because you realize that she has no idea how she's doing it. She still thinks it's through threats and aggression that she controls others, when in reality, it was most likely her vulnerability that drew people to her. The irony doesn't miss you that the very thing she hates about herself is the thing that gives her what she most wants.

You decide that a little more probing will be necessary to fully unravel Vriska Serket. You're more than ready to get your hands dirty and you know it wont be easy, but you're happy for the risk and the chance to stretch your wit. It's been too long since you've had such an interesting challenge and with that thought in mind, you return to the kitchen for your coffee.

 

* * *

  

**== > Be intentionally late for your shift at the video store because you live your life on your own damn schedule, thank you very much.**

Okay, fine, so you forgot to set an alarm and you're a little late to your shift.

A little late being an hour.

Whatever. No big deal.

If only your dumb boss would stop shitting himself for like five minutes maybe you could wake up enough to sass him back. Instead, you're too tired and sleepy and maybe that's a good thing because part of you thinks that fighting back this afternoon might just get your ass fired for real this time.

"Okay, yeah, I'm sorry geez!!! Would you relax, I'm here now aren't I?" You gesture wildly to yourself as if to prove you are indeed physically in the space and he sighs, completely exasperated with you before throwing a pack of labels your way. "We've got a new shipment of discs from Kino. They're in the back closet, drag 'em out by the front and start labeling them. Shelve them in their proper places when you're done and Vriska? Next time you're late, it'll be the goddamn last time." He points to his eyes and then viscously points to you, and if the thought of job-hunting again didn't make your stomach twist with discomfort, you'd find the gesture totally hilarious.

He drags his fat ass out the back to no doubt pop in a DVD and snooze the rest of the day (or really, who knows what he does in that tiny office of his) and you run a hand over your face before setting to work. Your stomach's pissed since you didn't have time to eat anything before you ran out of the house and you wonder if you can risk slipping out for a donut or a bagel. The thought doesn't last longer than a couple of seconds though, especially with that dumb eye-pointing gesture still fresh in your minds eye. Dragging the box of blu-ray's out to the counter, you set to work, popping a random Tarintino movie into the screen behind you for some background noise as you start chugging away on writing down the appropriate labels.

It's such a mindless task that it's not hard for your mind to start drifting. You barely had time to get ready this morning and after splashing your face with water, grabbing your eyepatch from Kanaya's room, and snatching up your wallet and phone, you pretty much made a beeline straight for the store. Didn't help that the weather outside was total shit, and of course you had no idea it'd be an angry piss stream of rain and snow so by the time you arrived, you were late _and_ soaked. In fact, you're still sorta drying off, with your pants sticking uncomfortably to your legs as testament of your lost battle against the weather.

At least the store has decent heat.

You mechanically scribble down another label and toss the disc to the box on your left. There's still a couple of days left before your apartment's set to be fixed and ready for you to move back in. Though to be honest, even you are a little on edge about going back if the pipe seriously exploded on its own like that while you were away. Because shit, it was one thing to live in a gross apartment but another thing to live in a gross apartment that also served as a ticking time bomb. Plus, you're pretty sure Kanaya would give herself an aneurysm or something if you told her you were seriously planning to move back into the same flat. It was weird to see her get so riled up when she heard news of the incident. It was weird to catch her in such a state at all. It didn't take a genius to tell she was a cool-headed person all around, a trait you always envied because shit, how useful would it be if you could keep your emotions in check like that all the time? It would sure as hell make tricking others a lot easier if you could keep your trap shut every once in a while.

After all, even you knew you had a penchant for revealing your cards too soon or too loudly in an eagerness to share your genius.

Eh, whatever. You're interrupted in your thoughts when the front door opens, the bell above it chiming once to let you know you've got a customer. You're about to drawl out your customary, bland greeting of overall disinterest until a shaggy mess of brown hair comes into view. The smell of sweet pastries (and wait, is that pizza) doesn't hurt in speeding up the recognition process and you cant fight the spread of a smile when you realize it's John.

"Heh, look what the cat dragged in!" He was a bit smarter than you in preparing for the weather and when he pulls the blue hooded rain jacket off, he beams at you, completely untouched by the grossness of the weather outside. You didn't realize how much you missed the idiot till just now. He approaches the counter and plops a tupperware of cookies and a brown bag beside you. "Hey Vriska! I heard about your apartment blowing up....or okay, more like I read about it because it was on the news and stuff, but anyways, gosh, I'm really glad you're okay."

You're already digging through the bag-and sweet gods you were right, it _was_ pizza--so you take a huge bite before you finally answer him. Oh my god, it's delicious. You say as much to him through a mouthful of cheese and he laughs and patiently waits for you to talk to him like a normal person. "Yeaaaaah, about that. Was totally gonna update you but you know, it's been a total shitstorm since then. You wont believe who I'm staying with right now though, I am like living one of those shitty MTV reality shows for real right now." He opens the tupperware of cookies and bites into one, and you wish you could eat and enjoy two things at once because damn, you can tell right away that they're fresh from the oven.

"I already know. Kanaya and Rose, right? I mean, who else would you stay with?" You pause mid-bite at that. You're a little miffed for some reason. "What do you mean? What's so obvious about that, you dork?" You try your damnedest to keep the irritation out of your voice because Egbert is the only reason why your stomach isn't chewing itself out right now but still, you've always hated being transparent and the idea that John could ever think something was obvious about you is poking annoyingly at your side. He doesn't seem to notice your change in tone though, and he continues speaking, stuffing more of the cookie into his mouth. "Well...you could have stayed with us I guess...but I thought that the idea of living with me, Karkat, Dave and Terezi all at once would be too much craziness. Even I'd want a break from all that! And uhhh, yeah, I didn't think any of the others were realistic options either..."

Fair enough.

"And plus, you and Kanaya are close. I know that. There's no way she'd let you go anywhere else, right?" He sounds confident in saying this and you're annoyed only cause he's right. You jab him on the arm with the hand that's not holding the pizza slice and roll your eyes. "Yeah, okay, fine Detective Egbert, A+ for you. Anyways, lemme tell you right now, living between Maryam and Lalonde is like having your television stuck on a non-stop daytime program about happy suburban couples living in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. Seriously. They're always all over each other and the whole thing reeks of... blissful coupledom or whatever." John slides into the twirly chair behind the counter to get more comfortable and spins himself once while making a thoughtful face.

"But what's so bad about that? Them being happy, I mean." You pause. "And well hey, knowing Rose, it's probably not that simple. I mean yeah, she's happy duh, but I think there's probably a lot more to their relationship than the stuff you get to see in front of you. Who knows what they're like in private!" He wiggles his fingers playfully at you while smiling and your face scrunches up. "Jeegus, can you not go there. Bad enough I caught them macking on each other yesterday morning." John guffaws, unable to stop himself from asking who looked to be the better kisser. Geez, who knew Egbert was such a gossip queen.

Anyways, you're the tiniest bit impressed with what he just said. Because yeah, you know to some extent that he's right about that too. It was pretty unfair of you to think you knew all the nuances of their relationship when in reality, you had never been given the time and space to really understand what their interactions were like. And just because you were...leery of anyone having that much power over Kanaya's feelings (shut up, don't ask why), it wasn't exactly fair of you to think that Rose would act insensitively or irresponsibly because of it.

Ugh, why did it have to be an important thing to respect other peoples feelings all the time?

Part of you misses being an insensitive douchebag.

You tell this to John, who looks at you with such fondness that it catches you by surprise. "Aw, don't say that, Vriska. I like that about you. It's important to share your feelings with others. It's important to be able to recognize peoples feelings and trust them! I mean okay, I know it sounds cheesy and dumb, but it's true. Dad always told me to live with honest feelings and you know, to this day, I don't think it's done me wrong." He shakes the box of cookies at you. "You should try one, these are chocolate chip _and_ pumpkin."

Damn Egbert. You almost want to punch him square in the face for being such a doofus.

You take a cookie and mull it over, the two of you chatting idly about some stuff and about the others before he eventually takes off. He leaves you the rest of the cookies and tells you to split them with Rose and Kanaya, and you wave to him from the counter as he heads back home.

 

* * *

 

 

**== > Revisit that omniscient narrator perspective. Ahem, and now: the weather.**

By the time Vriska finishes her shift, it's nearly ten-o'-clock.

Somewhere in the distance, Kanaya is caught up in a meeting about the next big project the firm is hoping to start from overseas, Rose is finally seated aboard a train of writing that doesn't seem to be headed straight to the trash, and the cats are pissed as hell that someone's forgotten to feed them dinner.

It's still raining and snowing outside. In fact, it's even worse, and the present flurry of ice and snow is what Vriska Serket is facing dead in the eye as the store lights behind her dim out and her boss drives off in his cheap looking Chevy. It's one of those awkward moments where Vriska's dumbly aware that someone would help her out if she made a call on her phone but as luck would have it, she forgot to charge her phone last night.

Rose would have been pretty useless anyways, given that she doesn't drive, and Kanaya--who is knee-deep in trying to negotiate a realistic timetable for how to finish their current project at the studio--doesn't have the space in her mind or the time to predict that Vriska might be in a bit of a pinch. And beyond that, hell if it was anyone else's duty or responsibility to remember, think, or even imagine her current situation.

She looks out into the street for one long moment before stepping out. Shit, it's not as if standing around was going to get her anywhere, and in a good forty minutes fighting against the wind, snow, and ice, she makes it back. Stylishly so even, in her thin ripped jeans, tattered jacket smartly selected from the Salvation Army, and long-sleeve band shirt.

Wet as a dog and covered in snow, by the time she opens the door with the spare key Kanaya lent her, she's more than grateful for the blast of warm heat that greets her inside the house. So grateful in fact that she slumps down on the ground for a bit. Just a little tired from the walk, that's all. Maybe a quick nap wouldn't hurt. So she does just that, a small nap, right there, curled up by the front door.

It isn't until an hour later that Rose finally comes downstairs to refill her tea, wherein she discovers Vriska's passed out on the living room, running a fever of about 106 degrees and flanked on both sides by two mewling cats, who are still pissed about having missed dinner.

Rose promptly enters panic mode, which to anyone else looking in, wouldn't be at all obvious since her facial expression doesn't change much. Her actions don't betray her feelings either, at least, not until it takes her three times to properly unzip Vriska's pathetically thin coat because her hands are unsteady. When she finally succeeds in peeling off the damp jacket, she's worried by how incredibly hot to the touch she is and the sound of her uneven breathing adds further reason for concern. Still, what's most unsettling to Rose is the fact that Vriska is nowhere near conscious, nowhere near awake, and as Rose kneels beside her wracking her brain for the best course of action, she almost misses the sound of the front door opening.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, the meeting went over far longer than I expected and-oh, oh my god..."

Rose glances up to see Kanaya, who in her warm scarf, gloves, rain boots and thick corduroy jacket, is a perfect, model example for what one should wear when facing the more unfriendly elements of the weather outside. Really, Vriska could stand to learn a thing or two. Rose smiles tightly at her girlfriend, her partner, her significant other. "Good evening, Kanaya. It seems we have a bit of a problem on our hands."

 

* * *

 

**== > Launch into full Fussying mode. All hands on deck. Full Fussy Fury.**

You have never been so worried in your life. Or at least, this is the only blinking thought you have in neon lights in the back of your mind as you you and Rose both set to work in bringing Vriska upstairs for a change of clothes. The young woman between you is still deep in sleep, and you're flabbergasted that anyone so thin could be so remarkably heavy as the two of you head up the stairs.

Already your mind is going through the catalogue of first aid materials you have at hand. Obviously dry clothes are the top priority, but beyond that, you remember that there is a heating blanket and compress downstairs in the linen closet that could be useful for the night. You know she's hot to the touch right now, but instinct and past experience tells you the best way to fight a bad fever is to sweat it out, as uncomfortable as it sounds. Fortunately she doesn't seem to have injured herself anywhere, though you tell yourself that it'd be prudent to give her a quick look to make sure that she didn't fall or trip on the ice on her way back home.

Rose hesitates after the two of you finally reach the bedroom upstairs, and she throws you a questioning look. You pause only for a moment before nodding and then the two of you lay Vriska gently onto your bed, both of you acutely aware that she is the only other person to rest on your shared bed. You decide not to dwell on that right now.

"I think it'd be best if we changed her clothes for now, and when she wakes up, we'll prompt her to take a warm bath and eat something. I cant imagine she ate anything good and the fever will have no doubt drained her energy, so I'd like her to have something nutritious as soon as possible. Can you help me find some warm clothes?" You know deep inside that Vriska would hate that anyone would have to help her with something like this, or even be privy to something as private as visible weakness but this is not the time or place for those kinds of reservations. While you know you could do this task by yourself, for some reason it feels important that you not do this alone.

It's as if by Rose being here, you are inviting her in. And with Vriska laying there in the bed you've come to share with Rose, you already feel as if somehow, the three of you have crisscrossed in a manner in which you cant go back from. In a way, it feels like this had always been inevitable. Maybe even natural for you three.

Rose digs through the closet and pulls out a warm pair of sweat pants and a sweater while you set to work in peeling off the rest of Vriska's damp clothes. She's finally starting to stir, which brings you great relief because her silence was starting to make you anxious. You are trying to tug her shirt over her head and when she blearily opens her eyes to look at you, you speak before she gets to chance to realize and object to what's happening.

"You're terribly sick, Vriska. Rose and I are going to get you out of these wet clothes and then we think it'd be best if you took a warm bath. Can you lift your arms for me?" You can tell right away she's embarrassed and angry about her situation, but you look at her with such urgency and seriousness that it takes the edge off her instinctive reaction. She grumbles weakly and lifts her arms as requested, and off comes the shirt. The eyepatch is next, and the skin of her pale torso is just as hot as the side of her face. You hear Rose start the bathwater and you lean back to allow Vriska to awkwardly and clumsily remove her jeans. You notice off-handedly that her undergarments are a matching set, black cotton with a repeating white spider-web textile, and it's a detail that surprises you since Vriska has never been the type to coordinate outfits. You look away quickly though after making note that she hasn't injured herself, not wanting to get caught staring.

"Mmfine....seriously....stop your fussying...it's just a little cold, you idiot..."

She jerkily flings her pants off and attempts to lift herself off the bed, to which she is rewarded with a clumsy step forward. You move immediately to catch and steady her, and she leans against you momentarily for support. "Holy shit, is it just me or is your whole house moving slightly to the left?" Your eyes narrow in concern.

"Vriska...I really do think you're sicker than you realize." You cautiously place your hand around her waist and guide her slowly towards the bathroom. "Bath first. Then we can discuss the, err, questionable architecture of my house afterwards." Her whole body is like a furnace against your own and she must be too tired to reply because she simply follows you instead, albeit looking disgruntled all the while. Rose left the bathroom door open and when the two of you stumble in, she looks at Vriska with a raised brow.

"I bet you've seen some better days." Vriska snorts at that. "No shit, Lalonde." You're glad she's feeling well enough to pick fights and so you gingerly remove yourself from her side, careful to make sure she's steady on her feet first. Rose gets up, brushes some invisible dust off her pants and gestures to the clothes by the sink. "Well, your majesty, your bath awaits you. And here are some warmer clothes to change into afterwards, since I'm sure you have nothing in that duffel bag of yours downstairs that's anywhere near warm enough."

You're worried that she's being too prickly and almost want to say as much but Vriska follows up immediately. "Yeah, yeah, fine. What's for dinner? I'm staaarving."

The two of you share a look, before Rose scoffs. "And here we were, worried about your health. You just keep yourself from dying in our house and we'll debate the ever so difficult matter of what's for dinner." With that, she pushes you out of the bathroom and shuts the door behind her, leaving Vriska to her own devices.

The two of you don't speak as you make your way downstairs, and you wonder what Rose is thinking when she laces her fingers with yours.

"She'll be fine." You smile at her uncanny way of considering your feelings first. "How was the meeting? I was about to call to check in on you but, well, I got caught up with Vriska's little situation. I should have come down earlier, I was so into my writing that the whole evening just passed in a blink of an eye." She sounds apologetic so you pump her hand reassuringly as the two of you approach the kitchen. "Don't apologize. I don't think we had any way of knowing this would happen, and honestly, Vriska shouldn't have left the house with such few clothes. What does she think she's doing out there wearing that in weather like this?"

You notice the empty bowl that Gandalf is pawing angrily at and you kneel down to fill the respective bowls with food. Both cats lunge for it immediately, and you guiltily add a little more to their usual portion as a gesture of apology. You stand back up and sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. "I propose noodles for dinner. Something warm with hot broth and vegetables. How does pho sound?" Rose nods, agreeable on all accounts. The two of you set to work immediately, having down to pat a rhythm in the kitchen that's taken months to master. She cuts and cleans the vegetables with ease as you prepare the broth and noodles, both of you weaving in and out between cabinets and drawers and stepping around each other in a well-practiced dance, a result of countless shared dinners, lunches, and breakfasts at home.

It's nice. You have fallen in love with how familiar Rose Lalonde is, and the panic from earlier slowly begins to ebb away.

She slides the mushrooms, onions and thinly sliced beef strips into the broth and you set to work on cleaning and preparing the beansprouts and cilantro. She lingers behind you for a moment and in an unexpected gesture of tenderness, wraps her arms around your waist. Her breath feels nice against your ear, and you slow your movements to more fully appreciate the warmth of her frame behind yours.

"I think I can see why she's so important to you." You don't need to ask who she's referring to. Carefully slicing the unseemly ends off the sprouts, you wait for her to continue. She breathes through her nose, one long stream of air that brushes against the small hairs on your earlobe. "It's going to be strange you know, the three of us. I'm not usually one too keen on sharing." There's a note of amusement in her voice when she says this, and you realize that for all the years you will come to spend with this woman, you will never truly know the inner workings of her mind. Going into this strange affair had been confusing from the start, and Rose had never made it perfectly clear where she stood, only that she was willing to let it unfold in due time. And truthfully, you had never planned for what would happen either, knowing that planning would have been futile for it was only Vriska's nature to be completely destructive in every sense of the word, obliterating every bit of usefulness in having set expectations or carefully laid out plans. In going about this at all, you had done something that had always been difficult for you.

You had opted to just follow your feelings. Childishly, even. Naively, perhaps.

And Rose, having seen that for its rarity, granted you that indulgence.

She presses her lips soundly against the back of your neck, and you wish to yourself that they were against your lips instead. "I realize that in light of all that's happened, you've yet to let Vriska know you still love her. Don't you think it's silly of us to be having such serious conversations without keeping her in on the loop? As much as I love to see her remain clueless to all that's going on, I do think at some point we all have to be on the same page." She's right. For all the small tremors Vriska's been causing in your relationship with Rose, it's almost comical to remember that she has yet to understand just how much she's affected you both. Rose carefully plucks the knife and cutting board away from you and nudges you to the side.

"I imagine she's almost done with her bath. Now would be a good time for a feelings jam, don't you think?" She smiles cheekily at you and you are almost embarrassed by how easy it is to be so charmed by her at times. "Ah, perhaps you're right." You hover for a moment longer before giving in to the urge to kiss her, and when you lean forward you're pleased that she meets you halfway. Her mouth is soft, her breath sweet, and you realize somewhere in the back of your mind that it has been far, far too long since you've more fully explored each others bodies. That would have to be remedied soon, you decide.

When you part, Rose is still smiling at you, cat-like and eyes darkened as if holding onto a secret. You take your leave then, going up the steps slowly, thinking all the while about what you want to say and how you might say it.

 

* * *

 

**== > Revel in your first ever bubblebath.**

Of all the stupid inventions humans ever came up with on this shitty, oxygenated planet, you think that bubblebaths might be the best one yet.

Second maybe to junk food.

While you're still feeling like absolute crap, it's hard not to relax a bit when the water's so fucking nice and these ridiculous smelling bubbles allow for maximum soap-beard building. You're halfway through constructing your greatest goatee when you hear a knock on the door. Never one to care too much about your own nudity, you reply carelessly. "The door's unlocked." You figure it's Kanaya anyways, probably here to check that you haven't drowned yourself or passed out in the bath like a decrepit old lady. You're already mixing up a stock of smart statements about how she needs to get that stick out of her ass but when you turn to greet her, you're silenced by the fairly serious expression she's got on her face.

Uh-oh.

After running through the speediest checklist of all the potential fuck-ups you could have done in the past 24 hours, you decide she's probably not about to lay the smackdown on you. Which leaves only one other option.

You notice that she's careful not to stare at your body, which wouldn't matter much anyways because most of you is covered by water and bubbles. Plus, she's seen you in various states of undress already, having recorded your measurements multiple times for a myriad of outfits and other related shenanigans. You lean back into the bath and blow the beard off, feigning an air of nonchalance. "Sup, Fussyfangs. Why the long face? I'm feeling better already, see?" You splash a bit in the water, stirring the bubbles as if to prove a point. She gingerly seats herself by the toilet and you want to laugh because only Kanaya Maryam could sit on the cover of a toilet seat and somehow make it look elegant.

"I'm glad to hear you're feeling a bit better." She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and you can tell right away that she's nervous about something. Which in turn makes you a little nervous. You can tell you're both about to step knee-deep into a draining conversation about feelings, but you're worried anyways cause something in your gut tells you this is gonna be a big one. She clears her throat and looks off to the side, picking at the bottom hem of her shirt. It's a black blouse, with a light green floral print of vines and lilies. Or at least, you think they're lilies. You'd be lying if you said you knew any more than three types of flowers. "I realize this may not be the best time to talk about it, but I also feel that there won't ever be a truly 'right' time either. So in that sense, it's almost like one should just choose a time. And at the moment, I believe there's no better time than the present moment. Considering of course, that there is no actual set time that would be more sensible than any other. After all, wouldn't you say that one should--"

"-Maryam, you're rambling." She flushes at that, and you smirk because it will never not be funny to see her get caught up in details.

You wiggle your toes from beneath the water and run a thumb over your scarred eyelid. "Hey, well, you know me, I'm all about that gung-ho attitude. So, what's the deal?" You cock your head to the side and look at her fully. She matches your gaze and you see her shoulders tighten up imperceptibly before unwinding, and while you cant hear it, you imagine there's a small exhalation slipped in there as well.

"Vriska. I don't know if it's ever been clear to you, but I've loved you for a very long time."

Oh.

Of all the things you expected to have come out of her mouth, this was definitely not on that list. Admittedly, it wasn't a very long list but shit, there was no way you could have been prepared with any kind of ready-made response. You blink stupidly and think maybe you might have even said 'oh' out loud without thinking because sometimes your mouth can be an uncooperative dick like that. Thankfully, you're given a moment longer to process this all because she opens her mouth again, apparently not quite finished with what she has to say.

"...I had hoped that the feeling would go away, as it seemed back then that the feelings were unrequited. I decided long ago not to let that bother me however, and as the game continued, I was able to focus my attention onto more pressing matters." She smiles quietly at the next part of her sentence, and your chest tightens for a reason you cant explain. "And of course, meeting Rose facilitated a lot of change from within me that I could never have expected."

You can feel the bath water finally losing its comfortable heat and as it settles more towards a tepid temperature, you try to rapidly make sense of your feelings. Why the hell did you have to be so clumsy with untangling your own dumb emotions? Oh yeah, maybe because it was always easier to just shove them to the side and operate on a level of 'do now, think later.' Much luck that was serving you now.

"Still. I find that regardless of all the time that's passed, and regardless of how much I love, and will continue to love Rose, there is still very much a part of me that cares for you." And at this point, Kanaya's eyes soften as if in pain, and that small clenching in your chest feels even tighter than before. "It's a little unfortunate, even. It goes without saying that at times, I believed it'd be much easier if I could just let go of that feeling."

You wince because you can just as easily hear "the feeling" being replaced with "you."

"But it is the way it is. I love you, and I love Rose. I'm not quite sure what to make of it, but at the very least, I felt it was important that you should know how important you are to me. And what you choose to do from here is completely your own decision, though as Rose and I have said from the very beginning, we will remain open to you."

What the fuck. Why the hell were people so fucking nice to you? You're immobilized by the sheer weight of it right now, completely dumbfounded by why Kanaya and even Rose would ever want to be understanding of someone like you. You don't need to draw up a diagram of what makes you an unpleasant person to be around, you simply never let it bother you since the people who couldn't handle it would always leave eventually. What the hell were you supposed to do with those who chose to stay though? What the hell was Kanaya hoping to get from you? You almost want to reach over and shake her by the shoulders, knock some sense into her, tell her that her legitimate feelings are totally wasted on a dumbass like you, but at the same time you are painfully aware of this small feeling inside of you that's swelling and aching and so fucking _touched_ at the fact that someone still fucking cares.

That someone might even love you.

What you do instead doesn't really surprise you. It does, however, surprise the shit out of Kanaya.

You rise from the bath and she makes a strangled noise of surprise, one that gets muffled immediately when you clumsily press your lips against hers. You're not exactly sure what you're doing, but you hope to god that this hopelessly romantic, stupid, cliche gesture can somehow transmit the complicated feeling of gratefulness, sincerity, and fondness that all seem so sudden and stupidly foreign to you. Her lips are really warm, and while this isn't your first kiss ever, you think it might be the softest and nicest. She is wearing that perfume you noticed from last night and when your lips finally part, you're a little dizzy from how nice it smells. Or maybe that's just the fever.

When you break away for air, her eyes are wide and surprised, mouth a little red from the recent attention you've given it. You realize you're dripping water and suds all over the bathroom rug, and you hope she doesn't make a fussy comment about that right now and totally break the mood. You're red in the face, you can tell, though she's probably unsure of whether it's because you're sick or just completely embarrassed. To be honest, it's probably a fair share of both.

"Listen, Kanaya. I....ugh, I'm not good with any of this shit. This feelings and relationship bullshit, I mean. I just...I just know that I don't trust anyone like I trust you, okay? I don't know what the hell that means exactly, and shoot me in the foot if I ever toss around things like 'I love you' because I'd be totally lying if I said I knew what that even meant-but. I'm...really grateful that for whatever freakish reason, you stick around for me."

You continue to wet the plush rug beneath your feet and realize you're not done yet.

"...and when I saw you and Rose get together, I....I don't know, I guess I was jealous. I don't really know why, it's stupid. I didn't know how to feel seeing you care so much about someone who wasn't me, I guess-which I know is stupid and childish and ugh, don't get me started on how dumb it is cause I already know. That's just how I felt. But then I realized I wanted to make sure that you were happy at the very least, you know? That like...Rose wasn't tricking you or anything. Which, duh, isn't happening at all cause you two are like obviously in love with each other but what I'm trying to say is that I cared enough about you that I put my jealousy on hold to try and understand whether or not you were happy. And I never do that for anyone! I didn't exactly understand it at the time, but I think I'm beginning to get it now."

Your cheeks are getting hotter as you continue to speak, and you realize for the first time, that this is probably the most honest you've been in your entire life.

"I care about you a lot, Kanaya. I just...never said it or wanted to face it because I didn't want to risk admitting I could be weak for anyone."

Saying it feels like pulling a rotten tooth out of your mouth, and as cripplingly embarrassing as the confession is, it also feels like a massive burden has finally slid off your back. You scrunch your eyes shut and wait for her response. What you get instead is the warmth of a soft towel wrapping around your body as she tugs you close. Kanaya's always been a good few inches taller than you, but when she's holding you like this, you cant help but realize how perfectly you fit under her body. How comfortable it is to push your face into the crook of her neck. Which you do, by the way, completely unperturbed by the fact that you're definitely ruining her dry clothes at this point. She rubs small circles on your back through the towel and you want to savor this moment for as long as you can. She pauses only to press a tentative kiss against your temple, a gesture so painfully gentle that you don't even know how to respond to it.

"Thank you for your honesty."

You wanna cuff her for saying something so lame but you choose to headbutt her instead. Which is largely ineffective given your close proximity, but it's the principle of the thing that counts. Still, in light of all this weird, touchy-feely bonding and revelation, something's lingering on your mind.

"...but wait, what about Lalonde? She knows about all this? And she's like...cool with it?"

Shit, you're not even sure what being 'cool with it' entails. What the hell did this make them anyways? The world's most awkward trio? Would they be sharing Kanaya? Could she even learn how to share a person, a potential matesprit at that? Your head starts spinning at all the weird permutations of what being in a three-person relationship is like when Kanaya interrupts your train of thought.

"She knows. And...while I'm not entirely sure what's to happen from this point onwards, she's been completely accepting of it all. I don't believe she has any objections to you fitting into our lives, that is, if you wanted to. In any case, we've been waiting to see how you felt about it all before trying to plan how to move forward."

You're not surprised that Lalonde and Maryam have found a way to take romantic entanglements and make some kind of blueprint or science project out of it. They were always such smartasses. Still, it's kind of nice to see that they're open to this working out somehow. That Rose is weirdly okay with you waltzing in like a total stranger danger. Accepting even. Not that you two didn't have any shared history at all, but still, it was ballsy as hell no matter how you looked at it. You shake your head, wet hair rubbing against the underside of Kanaya's jaw.

"Wow, this is some fucking shitstick we've gotten ourselves in." You say this with a dry laugh though, and Kanaya's chest shakes a little with a laugh of her own. "While not the exact words I'd choose myself, yes, I believe I'm more or less in agreement."

She rubs your back one final time and steps back. "You should dry off proper and come downstairs for dinner. We can all think about this a bit more later, once you're feeling better." You wanna sass her back and say you're feeling perfectly fine, but you already know you'd be fighting a losing battle.

She smiles at you again before heading back downstairs, and you're filled with this new feeling of affection that finally, finally feels unrestrained.

 

* * *

 

**== > In which many awkward, hilarious, idiosyncratic lesbian hijinks occur.**

Vriska's eventual moving into the house for real happens quietly enough, with no real big announcement or declaration. She basically tells her landlord to screw himself in the ass, grabs the remainder of her clothes and belongings (which wasn't much to begin with) and more or less settles into the house as if she had always been a part of it.

Sure the house gets messier than it's ever been for a while, with small little pools of dirty laundry peppering the halls and strange corners of rooms, but with enough scolding, eye-rolling, and exasperated sighs, Kanaya and Rose start their long process of training Vriska Serket into being a somewhat clean and functioning member of society.

Rose in turn gets to enjoy a little bit of variety in her breaks during the afternoons when Vriska's not working with a good game of MarioKart. With enough practice, they both manage to get Vriska to stop being 8th place all the time. Admittedly it is with varying levels of success, but Rose had always been one to celebrate even the smallest victories in life. Sometimes she's even successful in dragging Vriska out for groceries, wherein she discovers no greater joy than saying no to all the frozen foods and questionable snacks Vriska wants to buy. During all this, some special companionship unwraps, one filled with deliciously spiky comments, innuendos, verbal spars, and purposefully immature 'your mom' battles.

It's not very conventional.

It doesn't really make a lot of sense either.

The three of them fit pretty uncomfortably on the bed on most nights, as Vriska kicks in her sleep, Rose rolls around, and Kanaya sometimes snores. They continue on with it anyways, maybe out of sheer stubbornness, or maybe because after sleeping with all three of them in one bed, it always feels a little too empty when one person leaves.

Lots of things change. Lots of things stay the same.

Rose still likes her afternoon privacy for writing, Kanaya still likes her toast soft in the center, and Vriska still likes music that sounds more or less like plastic getting caught in the garbage disposal. There are still no established rules set in place about what they all are to each other, and they choose instead to tarry on, colliding into one another like three brightly colored balls set in a tumble-wash of daily life.

Regardless of all the shifting tectonics of their relationship, what Vriska decides pretty early on is that it's a hell of a lot better than what she was living with before. That this, for all its strangeness and unpredictability, is a lot nicer than the singular existence she thought she'd be roughing out undeterminably. And while she's come to piece together many things since the ending of the game, the arrival onto a new planet, and the weird Jenga-like adjustment of her social circles, the most valuable of all was this unexpected rule of threes.

Not as cool as eight maybe, but shit, she had to admit that from this light, her life's never looked brighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so with that, tríptico comes to a clumsy, somewhat anti-climactic end! thank you to everyone who stumbled across this story and took the time to read it. it was very much due to the continued support and encouragement that i felt compelled to finish the story. in the end, i feel like there's still a lot more about this three-person dynamic that i'd love to explore, so there is a chance that tríptico may become a part of a series. 
> 
> time will tell, haha. in any case, thank you again for reading.


End file.
